


Shadow

by walkerofthestars



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick spends half of this story going around like 'to be or not to be!', Swearing, Talon!Dick, Violence, Wally West comes back from the dead, but who cares? that is the question, choo choo everyone get on the monologue train, dick and slade are friends, i made this up as i went along and you can tell, slade is kinda ooc but do i care? nope, torture but like not described
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkerofthestars/pseuds/walkerofthestars
Summary: Wally West returns from the speed force and on the top of his bucket list is catching up with all his friends. Unfortunately, a certain acrobat is no where to be seen.Dick Grayson has been gone for four years, flying under the radar. he has little interest in running back to the hero life at the moment and that is no problem to him. That is, of course, until someone decides he's been sitting around long enough and forces his hand.Kaldur'ahm is still running the team and often helping with league business. Which means he's privy to information regarding the mobs and gangs in several cities around the country, and what he's seeing is concerning. Something is growing in their cities. Something powerful. And it's not stopping till it's taken over.
Relationships: bridflash (bromance)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 154





	1. Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down to write a one-shot a handful of months back and it turned into three thousand words. I am now sitting on 50 000 and counting. do not expect something well-thought-out, I was making this up as I went along till recently.  
> I've been posting this on Wattpad for a while, and I'm bringing it here now because it's honestly a better platform.  
> This being my first published work on this site also means I'm not used to the emphasis tag system and all that stuff, so bear with me, please. The first couple of chapters are probably shit because I haven't gone back to re-write them. It hasn't been forever since they were written, but to me all my writing's crap, so you never know. but this has been all your warning. enjoy.

The main problem with being in the speed force is the lack of anything.  
Not just the lack of cell reception or people to talk to or places to be or things to do. The lack of literally anything.  
Wally West felt that lack of anything eating away at him. He had no idea how long it had been, where in the world he was by comparison to his location in the Speed Force, how his friends and family were taking his absence. And when he started thinking about that he started thinking about other things.  
Like how the last thing he and Night wing ever did was fight.  
That ate away at him even more sometimes. He knew what that feeling was like, to lose someone in such a way that it felt like they just disappeared mid-sentence. They had more to say that they would never know, more to experience.  
And then it was also Artemis. The love of his life, which was far too short. He’d left her behind.  
It ate away at him from the inside out, because with those two names more came.  
Barry.  
Kaldur.  
Iris.  
Conner.  
Megan.  
Zatanna.  
Raquel.  
All of them. On and on and on. He was no longer running, he was falling in and out of a trance as he was swept from one memory to the other. names and thoughts and feelings.  
That’s what made him faster. Not just being in the speed force. The running, the falling. Away from it all, as fast as he could go because if he was too tired to breathe, to exhausted to keep going it all crept up and he felt like he was quiet. His thoughts were quiet. For just a moment as his hearing flatlined to the rush of blood in his ears and the absence of it all he could feel like he was actually dead, blissfully unaware of the pain.  
And then he caught back up to himself and it started all over again.  
Maybe that’s why it happened, he just got so fast it ripped his world apart. So fast, but the memories were faster, the thoughts a rhythm with his steps pumping in his blood, on and on and on until.  
It broke.  
He didn’t stop.  
He didn’t need to catch his breath.  
Because there was something.  
_He’d crashed into something._  
A wall.  
Concrete.  
Rubble scattered across the ground.  
Dust in the air.  
Where was he?  
He was there, exactly where he had longed to be at the time.  
There.  
Home.  
He had to be.  
The Watchtower.  
Because it occurred to him very suddenly that his home was his family, and his family were heroes.  
When the dust finally cleared he realised the drifting feeling he was getting was not him dying again, but in fact just being knocked out. Exhaustion? The dust? Who knew, but he saw the silhouettes of people, heard the yelling, and then he was out like a light.

Night wing didn’t know if he was dead, alive or somewhere in the middle.  
His back ached and he was pretty damn sure he’d sprained his wrist, but he was a little too busy fighting for his life.  
Death Stroke tripped him up with an effortless kick and followed it with an attempt at an uppercut when night wing effortlessly handsprung out of the fall, and slammed Death stroke into the ground as he was surprised by an expertly done judo flip from his opponent.  
In other words, night wing was getting cocky.  
Five more moves and they were on even footing.  
A few after that and Death stroke took advantage of the hero’s sudden arrogance and flipped him on the ground in return, face pressed into the ground, hand twisted behind his back.  
a little longer and he might be able to beat Slade. _Might._  
“your confidence belongs in a club, not on the sparring mat.” Death stroke drawled, taking his time to make a show of the fact that he had a dagger to the young adult’s throat.  
Night wing’s answering eye roll dared him to use it.  
“your attempt at intimidating me belongs with a side street thug, not someone who’s seen you snort milk after laughing.”  
“I told you not to mention that again.” Death stroke sighed before standing up to get rid of half of his weapons—because he wouldn’t ever get rid of all of them—and quickly checked over his own injuries.  
“not a chance Slade.” That was the thing.  
Slade.  
Not Death stroke. Not Wilson. Not asshole.  
Slade.  
A first name basis was never something he expected to be on with the mercenary.  
Then again, neither did he ever expect to be living with the guy. Or see him snort milk after laughing at the breakfast table. What the fuck happened in his life to get him here.  
“I swear Grayson, one of these days I’m going to sew that mouth shut.” Slade muttered, walking off the mat towards the bathroom.  
“oi! I called the bathroom first!”  
“and I won the sparring match, so I get first dibs.”  
“asshole!”  
“dickhead!”  
“oh hilarious, that’s about as original as the first thousand times you used it!”  
“says the one who settled for _asshole_ of all things.”  
Then there was that. First name basis was one thing, the other was the playful banter, the homely vibe as he woke up in the morning and ate breakfast at the same table as a merciless mercenary whose reputation did not overexaggerate in the slightest. How normal it was to spar and train with him.  
Friends.  
What the hell.  
It was also normal when he went to the kitchen to get a drink without asking, because he was not a prisoner. It was also normal when he took such a long shower that Slade complained about the power bill for all the hot water he was using. It was normal when they sat down and ate dinner together.  
The buzz from Slade’s communicator was not normal, however, because it meant that someone who felt entitled enough to believe Slade was working for them had a job for him. He didn’t ignore it, which implied it was someone from the Light.  
The light.  
Dick hated those guys.  
After the catastrophe that was the reach the light had gone off-grid, hiding in any conceivable way. Dick was quite sure that that was because they were recollecting themselves, making new plans, new alliances, preparing themselves for their next big move. The only time they’d called on death stroke to dick’s knowledge since the events of Santa Prisca was when they wanted to yell at him about how Miss Martian had managed to appear as him at their little summit, which had ended with a lot of yelling and a big ol’ fuck you. Whatever they wanted him for now had to be important, because their pride wouldn’t allow it to be anything but.  
Dick had decided a while ago that he would pretend Slade’s mercenary jobs didn’t exist. He couldn’t get himself to care about the fact that the man was a well-trained killer, therefore he didn’t bother pretending. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more information about the light.  
Dick snuck down the hallway to where Slade had his office and stood outside the door where he could hear Slade speaking to savage and his band of not-so-merry men.  
“what?”  
“we need you to run reconnaissance on the justice league.” Was savage’s answer.  
“what do you want me to find out specifically?”  
“basic information that we can use against them. As well as an explanation for the sudden energy surge from the watch tower.”  
Uh what?  
“energy surge?”  
“our scanners picked up some readings that are similar to those found around speedsters, but on a large scale.” Queen Bee drawled.  
An energy surge similar to a speedster? Dick’s mind made one immediate prediction as to what that was and immediately wished he hadn’t. he couldn’t get his hopes up about Wally, it would be too much of a heartbreak when he turned out wrong.  
“and how much am I getting?”  
“the usual.”  
“fuck that. You want me to run reconnaissance on the _justice league_ for the usual offer? I’m not an amateur.”  
“we’re counting on that,” Bee grumbled, “but sadly the light has been badly affected after the Reach’s meddling. Luthor and Ra’s refuse to give funding for anything they do not feel necessary to our mission and our other members are not forthcoming with their bank accounts. The usual is all we can offer you.”  
“then you won’t be getting any information from me.” Was Slade’s answer. Dick heard a click as he turned off the monitor.  
Slade was not impressed when he came out of the room to see Dick smirking at him.  
“miss that raise you were hoping for?”  
“next time you want to know about my missions you can come in the room like a normal person. Never know, maybe I’ll give you half if you do half the work.”  
dick tensed in his leaning position against the wall. Slade kept walking to the kitchen, chuckling under his breath.  
There were many things that were normal to Dick, but the idea of joining Slade on a mission was not one. He enjoyed the mercenary’s company, learnt from him during training sessions, but he did not want the blood on his hands.  
That was one thing that would never change.

Dick heard the apartment go silent. the building didn’t so much as creak as he slid out of bed and packed his things. The moon was a sliver of a Cheshire-cat smile and the air was dry and cold.  
He didn’t need to sneak around, he didn’t need to steal a key, he just walked out of his room, down the hall to the door.  
His fingers were clasped round the handle when the floor creaked behind him.  
“where are you going?”  
“I wasn’t aware I was a prisoner.”  
His fingers slid off the handle, dangling loosely at his side, within reach of a gun strapped to his waist.  
A gun.  
What the hell.  
“you’re not.”  
“good to know.” He looked at Slade, his hand was within arms reach of his own gun. He looked like he was thinking, what about dick could only guess. Whether he would force his friend to stay, whether he should ask where he was going.  
“you going back to your hero friends?” was what he settled for.  
“I figured it was time, considering they’ve had no idea where I’ve been for four years.”  
This could get ugly.  
“you going back to being Night Wing?”  
“no idea.”  
Slade sighed, and handed him a duffle bag with who knows what inside and enough room for Dick to add his backpack to the mix.  
"good luck."


	2. investigate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so remember how I said I started writing this a while ago? yeah, re-reading this is reminding me just how crappy my writing can get.  
> real sorry I didn't post this a while ago, our Wi-Fi provider recently did maintenance and didn't tell anyone and our router didn't stack up anymore or whatever. and it took forever to get a new one. but we're here now so have a chapter.  
> also, thank you for your comments and kudos last chapter, it meant so much to me :)

“what do you mean you don’t know where dick is?”   
The watchtower was exactly how Wally remembered it, four years later and not a single thing was different.  
“Dick left after you- after everything was resolved. He said he was taking time off from the team, he went off the grid a few months after.” Was Artemis’s reply, she was sitting next to him, holding his hand, she couldn’t believe he was back and now she was scared that if she looked away he’d disappear again.  
“and that hasn’t worried any of you?” Wally was confused to say the least. He had woken up and immediately looked for Artemis, he’d spent minutes giving them all hugs and rambling about how he couldn’t believe he was back and how much he missed them all and had then come to a sudden stop whilst sitting on the couch to ask where Dick was.  
“Dick is a responsible adult with experience and the ability to contact us, if he were in trouble we’d know.” Kaldur was just saying things, letting words pass his lips. He didn’t believe any of it. he was worried about night wing as much as anyone else who’d known the man for a reasonable period of time. Dick was a social guy, he didn’t like being away from people he trusted and considered friends, and he didn’t like not being there to support those people in times of need. His disappearance made very little sense to most of them.  
“dick is also an idiot when it comes to making decisions that prioritise other people over himself. Four years is a lot, he could be dead, and you wouldn’t know!”  
That was a truth they’d all come to terms with after two years. Come to terms with, but not accepted, because Dick couldn’t be dead. They wouldn’t allow it.  
“Wally, why don’t you get some rest at home, and maybe we can talk to batman about finding Dick. I get it, you two were close. But first you need to look after yourself.” Artemis suggested.  
Wally sighed a response, “fine.”

Dick contemplated going out on a patrol of Bludhaven like he used to.   
He’d moved back into one of his old safehouses in the southern part of the city and immediately felt the lack of anyone he could talk to. Slade was a constant noise breaker when he’d been living with him because, like Dick, he hated silence. Too foreboding and annoying and empty.   
Now the silence was a ring in his ears as he thought about what he wanted to do with himself.  
Night wing felt like a title he couldn’t live up to. A bringer of hope, the light in Bludhaven, a guardian. He felt like none of these. A guardian wasn’t supposed to know how to kill, and after his time with Slade he knew thousands of ways to do so. Night wing was a hero that others relied on, but right now he just felt like someone too erratic and unpredictable to rely on. He had no idea what or who he was, and it was a constant reminder of what he was missing. Or rather who.  
Wally was his friend for years. They were practically attached at the hip.   
Wally was someone who’d disappeared in the middle of everything. A keystone that had slipped from a puzzle and now everything looked wrong. A little too sideways, a little too empty.  
He’d disappeared mid-sentence, and there was so much more to say. So much more for Night wing to say.   
Maybe the easiest way to find out if the energy surge was Wally was to go on patrol. Extravagantly announce his reappearance to the world and go visit his friends. Catch up. If Wally was back, he’d be there.  
But he felt like an impostor. He wasn’t the Dick Grayson they knew, and they would know it.  
So many questions, so many decisions, so many thoughts, so many paths. so little time, so little sanity.  
What the hell.  
That was a good catch phrase.  
No where near as good as ‘fuck it’ though.

All wally wanted to do was inhale deeply.  
And then shout as loudly as possible “BOI” at the man in front of him.  
But that man was Batman, so he decided that wasn’t a good idea.  
Tim was at school, Barbara was at College and Stephanie (there was another bat kid already) was also at school. And apparently Jason was back- although they weren’t quite sure, they were still trying to find proof- and busy being an idiot somewhere else, but Wally had effectively come back from the dead, so he wasn’t judging.  
So, it was just the bat and him when he’d zeta-ed into the Batcave to ask where night wing had disappeared to.  
They had an argument they had to finish, and a hug they had to share.  
“you don’t know where Night wing is?” Wally asked purely for clarification, fingers running through his hair once to get it out of his eyes in an act of sheer exasperation.  
“no.”  
“how?”  
“because he went off grid.” Batman answered, he had the expression of someone who was already done with this whole conversation.  
“and you’re the batman, you know exactly where people are, it’s your thing.”  
“Dick is a responsible adult who ca- “  
“jeez you guys are all reading off the same script. I understand Dick is a responsible adult, but he has been off-grid for four years and I would like to know where he is. For all we know he could be dead, or captured.” Wally was even more inclined to shout ‘BOI’ at the bat. If there was one time that his over bearing attitude was wanted it was when someone just disappeared out of nowhere. He was always the one who knew about that stuff.  
“Last time I tried to act like an over bearing father to Dick he told me to let him live his life without having to deal with me being a know-it-all. He wanted space.”  
“Space doesn’t mean not conducting a search when someone disappears for four years!”  
Batman just turned on his computer to do research for some case he was looking into- probably his other sort-of-dead-but-not-quite son’s case- a very clear dismissal.  
“fine then. I guess I’ll have to find your son for you.”

There was a very thin line between falling and flying, Night wing mused, as he made his way through the streets of Bludhaven via grapple hook and sheer lack of self-preservation. He’d already taken care of a few minor crimes in back alleys, the usual stuff.   
He also tried not to pay heed to the intrusive thoughts that came with a deep understanding of how to kill someone- he did not need to think about that. A night patrol in Bludhaven did not warrant or call for that kind of thought process.  
He heard briefly the sounds of passer-by’s recognising their old hero flinging himself from building to building and couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he heard kids point gleefully and exclaim ‘look mum! It’s night wing!”   
He couldn’t believe how anyone could walk away from this feeling.  
And he couldn’t believe how easily this was going to plan.

The best times to take apart a team is when there is a weakness. And if there are no weaknesses, you must create one.  
How do you create one?  
You look for the secrets. You blow them out of proportion. Whisper sweet nothings in the ears of your enemies. Sew seeds of confusion. Take advantage of the uncommon and sweep the rug out from the bystanders.   
This was perfect.  
This would work.  
It was fool-proof.

‘Bludhaven’s blue-bird-vigilante Night Wing has taken back to its streets after years of absence. police still comment on the lack of necessity of the masked hero’s intervention in city affairs, claiming that relying on his presence will not end well if and when he disappears again, although it is unclear if that means they will fight against him.’  
"Wally!”  
Wally shot awake at the sound of Artemis calling him downstairs, speeding to sit next to her on the couch in less than a second.  
‘regardless, the majority of the city’s population are ecstatic at the return of their honoured guardian.’  
Wally shot up from the couch immediately at the news headline on the screen.  
"careful, you’ll make yourself dizzy sitting down and standing up that fast.” Artemis chuckled.   
"he’s alive, Arty!” Wally exclaimed.  
“this is when I say, ‘I told you so’.” Arty said, a hint of smile on her lips as she picked up her coffee mug to wash.  
“you haven’t spoken to Dick in four years and your first response is ‘I told you so’?” Wally asked, following her to the kitchen.  
Artemis chuckled under her breath, “I am excited, Wally. In case you forgot, dick and I are friends, too. He’s made his dramatic entrance, he’ll probably head to the watchtower next, hear you’re home and appear here.”  
“true.”  
Wally boiled the kettle again, leaning on the bench while he waited.  
He loved this. This human moment that was so real and normal and domestic. Artemis had sat on the edge of the bench next to him, her arm pressed into his.  
“arty, we prepare food on this counter, and you’re putting your ass on it?” Wally chided. He saw a humorous glint in her eye, probably from some dirty thought she was keeping in her head, and almost sighed at how much at home he was. He missed this so much while he was in the speed force. The quiet mornings, cuddling on the couch with the girl he loved, the familiarity as they coexisted so closely. He was quite sure that he fell in love even more with Arty in that moment, if that were possible.  
“what?” Artemis asked, knitting her brows. He wondered briefly if it were possible for Artemis to not be beautiful. The tilt of her head, the messy bun, the loose strands of hair dancing across her forehead, framing dark grey eyes.   
Wally snapped out of his daze, stumbling for something smooth to say. He used to be so good at that, but Artemis was different. With Artemis he could feel everything in him run at a thousand miles per hour, because whenever he was with her he was full. Full of happiness, full of energy…  
Right, something smooth to say… um… fuck it.  
“I am so in love with you.” He sighed.  
Artemis snorted at the remark, leaning back with a beaming smile, “of course you are, I’m awesome.”  
Wally laughed, leaning forward to catch Artemis’s lips with his own. Oh, how he missed her.  
Obviously, she missed him, too. Hands were thread through hair and breaths caught as they kissed and got lost in one another’s embrace.  
They were so lost in each other that the world stopped mattering.   
And they didn’t take turn the kettle off, which was a mistake, because the water kept boiling and the smoke alarm went off.

When Tim took his uniform out of his cupboard he was not expecting a piece of paper to float to the ground.  
He ignored it as he slid into his robin uniform, going through a mental list of all the homework he had to do, then all his assignments, then his upcoming exams, then his chores, then extra-curriculars. God his life was busy.  
He was about to sneak out his bedroom window when he remembered the paper. He picked it up to dispose of it but faltered when he realised there was writing on the other side of the thin paper.  
he read it, and had no idea what it was trying to say.  
He didn’t have time; the team was doing training at the watchtower. Probably just a prank at school, and it had ended up in his cupboard.   
He’d ask Aqualad about it later, just in case.

_‘did you know that one of your honoured guardians is fighting with the bad guys?  
Your media call him knight of haven,  
You should call him traitor.’ _

Garfield, Jaime and Bart where gathered round the TV, some of the other younger members of the team sitting with them as well, listening intently to the report.  
‘- the majority of the city’s population are ecstatic at the return of their honoured guardian. In other news…’  
Someone switched off the screen as the reporter turned to another of the day’s many events, Saturday’s were always the busiest days.  
“night wing is actually back?” came a voice from the doorway.  
Robin stood there, complete shock washed over his features.  
"hell yeah!” Bart exclaimed, "wally and night wing within a few days! This is great!”  
"didn’t you read about this in history books or something?” Jaime asked.  
"eehh, history isn’t good with specific dates sometimes.” Was his answer.  
"but why wouldn’t he first contact us? Or come to the watchtower?” Garfield asked.  
"knowing night wing that will be his next move," Aqualad said, "but for now, I believe we have a training session.”  
There was a collective groan at that remark.

So, this was a problem.  
Night wing had gone out the night prior on a patrol, the suit and everything.  
The problem with that fact is that it wasn’t quite factual. Because Night wing had not left his apartment that night. He’d been too busy contemplating if he should drink the Montoya Cabernet in his safehouse’s pantry. He wasn’t sure if Bruce had given it to him as a gift or he’d stolen it one night after Jason’s death to drink his tears away.   
He decided not to open it in case he did go out on patrol, which he didn’t do, so now he was a little annoyed.   
But he was a lot annoyed by the fact that someone else had dressed up in a perfect replica of his night wing suit and pretended to be him. Not annoyed because it was his title, or annoyed because he had a problem with it. annoyed because he was going to have to clean up this mess. And he didn’t know who was at fault for it.  
Whoever it was had completely memorized and perfected his fighting style, created a perfect replica of his night wing suit and then went on his merry way. There were very few explanations for this. And by few he meant one. Someone, somehow, had managed to make a clone of him. That created an issue, because if someone made a clone of him they could use it to infiltrate the Justice League. Night wing enjoyed being a trusted member of the JLA and their covert ops team, he did not like the idea of someone using his name for their own benefit without him knowing about it.   
But how could someone get enough DNA of his to make a clone?   
Batman would probably able to do it, but there was no motive.  
CADMUS would have a motive and be able to do it, but not have any DNA.  
So, who?  
 _oh_  
Death Stroke.  
Dick almost broke the cereal bowl he was holding when he made that realisation, which was a shock because he didn’t remember being able to break cereal bowls, but anger can do that sometimes.  
He pretty much immediately called his friend- was he a friend? Was that the word? – to clear things up.


	3. Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick makes a phone call, Tim asks Kaldur some questions and Wally wants to get out of the watchtower ASAP.  
> Also dead bodies.

Slade was half asleep when Dick called him, but was immediately awake. Dick wouldn’t call him unless there was an issue.  
He was halfway to his store room with all his gear when he answered the call and immediately heard…  
“Slade, you son of a bitch.”  
“not that I disagree, but what warrants name calling?”  
“I didn’t go out on patrol last night.” Was his answer.  
“yes, you did, I saw it on the news,” Slade answered, stopping outside his store room’s door, “the prodigal son returns, I’m sure the Bat’s excited.”   
What was that? Was he… bitter? No. yes. Maybe. No.  
He and Dick were… friends he guessed he’d have to admit. which was crazy because he didn’t have friends, that’s not something mercenaries do, but living with someone made it hard to distance yourself.  
But bitter? Of him leaving to be a hero again? what?  
“I did not, actually, I was too busy procrastinating, it’s a habit.” Uh, what?  
“really? Then who was on the news? That new Red Robin kid decide to play dress up or something?”  
“no, I’ve checked in on him a few times and he’s still very much Red Robin. Plus, whoever it was had a completely perfect replication of my suit, was well acquainted with my fighting style and seems to have the same build and height as me. So, unless Jason pulled off a miracle when he came back from the dead, I doubt it was any of the bats.”  
Ah yes, Jason. Slade remembered when he’d found out about that kid being alive again. He couldn’t keep the information away from Dick, but he couldn’t tell him where Jason was. Because he didn’t know. Dick was so damn happy, he almost looked like a normal human who hadn’t lost most of the people in his life, although he was pissed he couldn’t find the zombie-turned-human.  
“So, what does this have to do with me.”  
“Slade. Is this night wing a clone?”  
Oooooohhhhhhhhhhh…  
Dick didn’t actually think he’d steal his DNA and give it away to someone to make a clone with, right? Why the hell would he do that? Most jobs he did because they would benefit him somehow, even if it was just because of the money, and selling Dick’s DNA for someone to make a clone with would benefit him with a bit of cash sure, but immediately go down hill when Dick found out. He did not need a man he had trained for four years marking him as an enemy, that was just bad business. As much as Slade could _probably_ manage to take down Dick, he wasn’t sure because the guy had beat him in sparring sessions several times as well. He would be a good ally to keep. There was no logic to backstabbing Dick.   
Slade didn’t want to acknowledge the small train of thought that was saying he’d never betray Dick, not because of inconvenience, but because Slade didn’t like to make habits of betraying people he considered actual friends. Humans were social creatures, he couldn’t escape that fact.  
“I did not steal and sell your DNA so some trash can of a person could make a clone of you,” Slade explained in as dead pan of a voice he could muster, “it may surprise you, but I am not a total ass-hole.”  
“Could’ve fooled me.” Slade could tell Dick was relieved. even through the phone Dick was capable of knowing that someone was telling the truth. The acrobat had been lied to too many times, now he could sense the sound of deception in someone’s voice a mile off.   
“so, sounds like you got a problem on your hands.”  
He heard Dick sigh in annoyance, “yay, a mess to clean up. Can’t wait for this to blow up in my face.”  
“yeah, good luck.” He hung up with a chuckle.  
This whole thing would very much blow up in Dick’s face, he couldn’t wait to watch from afar with a bucket of popcorn, it’d be hilarious.  
As long as the clone hadn’t been made by some of the big bad guys there’d be no problems, Dick could handle himself. And the usual suspects had no reason to make a clone of Richard Grayson.   
Slade pondered over it all as he leaned against the wall.  
CADMUS. Why would they mess with Night Wing, they thought powerless superheros were useless?  
The Light. not likely, they’d go for a hero more in the public eye to manipulate and use for their own agenda.  
And the League of Assassins. Which he knew it wasn’t, Ra’s found the bats too interesting to mess with them in that way.  
But there was one more, and it was a lot more logical than others….  
But they wouldn’t…  
No.  
Yes.  
Maybe.  
No.  
But what if?  
Slade almost finished his train of thought when he felt a light hit his eye. He looked out the window, and just noticed on top of a building-  
Too late.  
he had less than a split second to hope his healing factor could still bring him back from a head-shot.

When Dick called again a few hours later to ask if Slade had information on CADMUS, which he couldn’t find any of, he got no answer. He tried again an hour later, and no one picked up.  
Normal behaviour for Slade but… there was an odd feeling in his gut.  
The safe house Slade was at wasn’t too far from the safe house Dick was in, so it wasn’t much effort to check.  
He still had a key, so he walked straight through the front door into the hallway.  
Golden light spilled in from the window on…  
Holy shit.  
The body was half way to healing, Dick didn’t know if it would make it to the point of walking again.  
It, because.  
Slade was dead.  
How?  
Who?  
He almost didn’t notice the blood on the wall, words dripping horrifically in a message he wished he didn’t recognise. It was shortened, words cut out because who had the patience to write the whole thing, but he knew it.  
And he didn’t want to believe it.  
No.

‘SPEAK NOT A WHISPERED WORD OF THEM,  
OR THEY’LL SEND THE TALON FOR YOUR HEAD.’

Tim pulled Aqualad aside at the end of their training session, the letter he’d found had been annoying him.  
"what’s wrong Tim?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the hallway. How was Kaldur so good at knowing when someone was a mental clusterfuck? He could always tell when Tim was running solely on coffee and spite and needed rest, but Tim could never tell what was going on inside the fish-man’s head.  
"I found this letter in my closet, I don’t know what it means or if it’s even something of note, but I figured I’d ask because something about it has been gnawing at me.” Tim said, handing it to the older hero- who unsurprisingly smelled of saltwater which was somewhere along the line of sickening and comforting, somehow.  
Aqualad read it with a frown, Tim was hoping that this was something of note because if it wasn’t he’d be so ridiculously embarrassed.  
"I see what you mean, I’m sure I’ve read something similar to this somewhere…" Tim took it back, wandering if he could try looking for finger prints on the paper, "wait. I have an idea.”  
Aqualad lead Tim to the main room of the watch tower where the computer was, activating the holograms and opening some kind of search engine.  
"what are you looking for?”  
"knight of haven, it sounds familiar. Whoever this is seems to think a member of the league or team is a traitor, it sounds worth looking into.” Aqualad entered ‘Knight of Haven’ into the search bar and started scrolling through the options.  
"wait, There!” Tim spotted an online news service’s post, selecting it and bringing it full screen.  
The picture was a surprisingly good image of Night wing swinging to a building on a grapple hook, likely caught on a skyscraper’s security camera, the title read ‘honoured guardian of Bludhaven saves police department’s best’, not the catchiest thing ever but it got the point across.   
Tim hit cntrl-f and searched Knight of Haven- he was sure he’d seen it in the posts description.  
Sure enough it showed up.  
‘…it would seem that our city has earned its own Knight of Haven in the form of the acrobatic hero titling himself Night wing in his conversation with the BPD after saving them from the out-of-control humanoid beast previously rampaging through our streets…’  
There was no other possibility, the letter had to be talking about Night wing. but he was quite literally the least likely person to turn against the JLA or the team. He was the first protégé, he made the path for every hero younger than 20 that came after him. He could never harm a soul- unless, of course, they’d harmed someone first.  
But there was no way it could be some little school yard prank, no one would know Tim had a connection to Night wing or the JLA. Someone was trying to start rumours within the hero community.  
This was not good.

Wally was running again and he hated it.   
Running on a treadmill this time, because he was not in the speed force anymore but they had to make sure his trip there wasn’t having any huge affects on him. The last part of this test was to make sure running didn’t cause him any problems. Flash had spent time in the speed force before, but never for four whole years. They had no idea what territory they were in.  
He heard Barry over the speaker, “okay, that’s enough.”  
He slowed to a stop, he was panting a little, but it wasn’t much. He hadn’t been running for as long as he had in the speed force, and it was a little slower than his new top speed- which he didn’t know the specific number for, he just knew he hadn’t reached it.  
Barry, Bart, Atom and Barry’s scientist friend Caitlyn were in the room in seconds, excited to talk about who-knows-what.  
“so, Walls, guess we might not be lapping you when we run anymore.” Bart joked, bumping fists with him excitedly.  
“in other words, your speed has gone up phenomenally,” Caitlyn explained, “your top speed from that run is about the same as Barry’s top speed after a quick warm-up, which is impressive considering you reached that speed rather quickly. And your stamina is amazing.”  
“uh, thanks?” Wally said, he wasn’t sure how he liked her tone, it kind of reminded him of when teenagers got to do an actually fun experiment in school and were super excited because ‘science! wow!’.  
Although that might have just been him as a teenager.  
“but, other than the obvious enhancements in your abilities, it would seem you’re perfectly fine.” Barry said. He looked like he wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure how.  
“great, so I can go home now?” Wally asked. He wanted to get out of there before Barry asked him to become a super hero again- because he knew he would. He didn’t know whether or not his uncle would be able to rope him into it, but he did know he wanted to go home and live a peaceful life with his girlfriend. The hero life was too damn much, but it was also intoxicating and drew you in.  
“yes, you can go home.” Caitlyn sighed, she seemed disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to do any more tests, but that was tough luck.  
He sped out to the zeta beams, unsurprised when Barry met him there.  
“can we talk?” he asked.  
“I am not becoming a hero again Barry. It’s not happening.”   
Barry sighed, caught in the act.  
“Wally, I understand, but- “  
“no, you don’t understand. Every time we put a uniform on and speed on out there we mark ourselves for death. That was fine when I was a kid- it was a rush, it was fun, I was saving people. It’s different now.”  
“how?”  
“because I have more to lose now. Because I’m smart enough to realise that I could die and it would be real. It would be the end.” Wally argued.  
“I know but…” Barry didn’t know what to say. He wanted his partner back, but his partner was… different, changed, and Barry was very sure it wasn’t just because of his faux death. Of the possibility of losing what he loved. There was something more. He could understand Wally leaving, he could take that, he couldn’t take being lied to about why.  
“Barry, I can’t. I can’t wear that suit. I can’t do that anymore.”  
“why?”  
“I just told you!”  
“no, you didn’t! you won’t tell me the real reason, I know it’s something else, just- “  
“IM SCARED!”   
Barry froze.  
“I’M SCARED OF WHAT CAN HAPPEN! I’m scared of… of it all!” Wally stopped, took a breath, ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t do this right now. He was not in the mental place he needed to be to have this conversation. “when we found out… about Jason. I couldn’t. Dick was crushed, the team was crushed, everyone was. And all I could think about was how impossible it was, that someone as good as Jason could have that happen to him. He was so good at what he did, how could he get captured? How could he not have escaped? How could Batman not have found him?”  
“wally…” this was the reason? Barry felt sick, this was what his nephew was carrying? These emotions?  
“I understood the weight of the possibilities of what could happen to us. Someone could capture us. One wrong move was all it would take and then Cold could have us, or Ivy, or Savage or even Joker and we could die. And it would be worse than just death because these people are sick, they’re mad, they wouldn’t even hesitate to do to us what Joker did to Jason and it would be the last thing we’d know.” Wally’s breath hitched for a moment and he realised the relief that came with finally talking about this. “I can’t Barry,” he looked up at his uncle, finding understanding in his features “I can’t do that, not knowing…” Wally didn’t know what else could be said, but Barry got the gist.  
He didn’t remember when Barry started hugging him, it could have been as soon as he’d looked at his uncle, it could have been a while after the silence swept in, it could have been as soon as they started talking. Because as soon as his uncle’s arms were around him he stopped thinking about how time progressed, or how anything progressed, because he just needed to think about how damn much he’d missed his uncle the past four years.  
He and Artemis went over to Barry and Iris’ place that night for dinner, and for a few hours they all pretended that the JLA didn’t exist, that they didn’t have problems, they just sat and ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company.  
They just lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bare with me, please, it gets better.   
> At least I think it gets better, my opinion isn't exactly objective. Let's just say my writing definitely gets better. This whole story has really let me up my skill set and begin to develop something akin to a writing style. If you ask me this is a bit slow at the beginning, but I chalk it up to not entirely knowing what I was doing while I was writing, at least now I have the bare-bones of a plot in mind.
> 
> So, tell me what you think so far, I'd appreciate feedback. This is dated writing, but who says I can't learn from it? I've loved all the comments and kudos so far, thank you so much for them, I hope you continue to enjoy it :).


	4. profanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade's brain heals, Tim and Kaldur do some detective work and Dick says fuck a LOT

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.  
The court of fucking owls. Why did it have to be them? Of all people?  
It couldn’t be joker, or CADMUS, or the light or even the league of bloody assassins, no it had to be a group of highly trained assholes who were harder to get rid of than Death stroke.  
AND THEY JUST KILLED DEATHSTROKE!  
Dick was speeding through the streets of Bludhaven as fast as he could, he couldn’t be sure that a Talon hadn’t caught his scent or something and was now putting him at the top of the kill list.  
Or worse…  
He hoped this had nothing to do with him, but that was very unlikely. The court wanted him for one reason or another, or wanted to use his name at least. And the easiest way to use their clone to the fullest would be to kill off the original.  
FUCK.  
He was so far in over his head it was almost comical, but what could he do? Who could he call?   
He couldn’t go to the Batcave, if there was a talon following him he couldn’t risk them finding the cave. He could call the league, but all that had happened so far was the court had killed Slade- which they would not give two flying fucks about, no matter how close Dick and Slade had gotten. And the clone they would assume was CADMUS or someone else, not the court of fucking owls.  
Dick skidded his motorbike into a side alley, checking his mirrors to see if he could catch someone off guard.  
There. On a roof in the corner of his eye. A black shape running in his direction.  
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Things were moving so fast it was hard to keep up with the plan.  
They would destroy the league from the inside, eliminate the obstacles they caused and get their rightful Talon back.  
They should have known that kid from the circus they’d settled for would not be enough, they’d trained him as best they could and yet the idiot had still found a way to get himself killed.  
No.  
They would have their Gray Son.  
He was even better than they had expected after training with the mercenary for four years, but as much as that was beneficial to them it was annoying that they had to search for Grayson after he disappeared. Who knew what lies were in his head that they would have to unravel.  
It had been some time since the Grand Master had been given a challenge, this would be a good way of brushing off some rust.

"wouldn’t it be easier If we just killed these villains?” Car asked.  
"yes, but we can’t” came the reply of his handler over the comms.  
"why?”  
"just do the fucking job.”  
Car did not like his handler.  
With a huff he cuffed another of the annoying backstreet thugs he’d run into- leaving him there for the police or another thug, which ever was first.  
A beep went off on his holo-glove, someone had walked into Death stroke’s apartment.  
He had a good feeling as to who.  
"Replica, what’s going on?” his handler was too annoying, he was thinking of killing him. That’d be fun, he’d be fun to kill.  
Although, if he could capture Night wing, he’d be able to have a lot more fun.  
"I’ve got a bird to catch,” he sneered to his handler, abandoning the ground in favour of grappling from roof to roof to get to the mercenary’s safe house.   
It was all about the image. the more the public saw him the more likely the JLA would wonder why their favourite fighting acrobat hadn’t gotten in contact with them. And that would lead to all kinds of theories when they read the note he’d put in Drake’s room.  
Oh, this was fun.

So, the guy that was following him was himself.  
No biggie.  
God fucking damn it.  
The clone had clearly been trained by the court, the weapons it carried were proof of that.  
The weapons. Sharp and deadly, some slicked in poison, some sharpened to an edge you could cut paper with, some as dark as the shadows that he could not see through.  
He was quite sure he was minutes away from passing out, which in his current situation was the equivalent of death so YAY.  
He’d hit the distress signal on his bike that signalled Slade he was in danger just in case he managed to heal his brains back together, but other wise there was no back up whatsoever. He had no contact with the JLA, he’d left the communicator with that frequency at home- because he hadn’t expected to be fighting a liTERAL CLONE OF HIMMSELF TRAINED BY KILLER BIRD-WANNABES OUT TO KILL HIM AND MOST OTHER PEOPLE AND PRETTY MUCH RULE GOTHAM GOD FUCKING DAMN IT GIVE HIM ONE NORMAL DAY. JUST ONE. PLEASE AND THANK YOU. NO? WELL THAT’S JUST RUDE.  
His vision was fuzzy and he felt like he had something stuck on the back of his throat which was not a good sign, and he was quite sure at least one of his ribs were broken. At least he hoped it was only one. His ankle felt like he’d rolled it after awkwardly sticking a handspring and his right eye was swelling over.  
His chest was also on fire because this bitch decided to copy his electrified escrima sticks. The nerve.  
His clone- he should name it or something calling it clone was rude-  
His clone punched him in the gut and hauled him against a brick wall.  
Right, name the bastard after you finish fighting him.  
He caught the next punch- a mistake really because that stung like a bitch- and threw one of his own at the dickhead’s- ha ha - face. His enemy caught it, twisting it behind his back and slamming him against the wall again, face first. Dick pushed back as the clone relaxed minutely, using the opening to get a foothold against the wall and flip over the wannabe bat-kid. He stole a knife from his adversary’s holster before he could catch up and took a defensive position. He was not getting killed or captured today, thankyou very much, he had to find out if his best friend was alive. He tried his best to look intimidating but found it a little difficult without being able to see through one of his eyes.  
The bird-boy took out his other knife, lunging with very little concern for his own health.  
Dick was glad Slade had trained him how to use a weapon similar to this thoroughly cause bat man sure didn’t.  
The two span and twisted, a flurry of action as steel hit steel. Dick caught a glance of his eyes reflected in the blade as he turned away from a streetlight, his clone’s almost perfect mirror of his face hovering above the reflection- almost prefect mirror aside from the brutal bruising on Dick’s face.  
He faltered for a moment, remembering when he’d found out about the fact that the court had claimed him as theirs when he’d been born. Remembering Haley telling him the circus was a breeding ground for their talons. Remembering how it felt to realise an organisation of killers considered him their object.  
Faltered for a moment, but that was enough for the clone. He hooked his blade round the hilt of Dick’s, pulling him forwards and crashing the pommel of his blade into Dick’s forehead, slamming a fist into his gut for extra points on the asshole scale, then following by smashing his pommel into Dick’s spine.  
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  
His vision blurred, split into several copies of itself and then faded, the edges of everything blending together horribly.  
No no no no no no no no.  
He barely registered his clone punching him once more in the head. He’d been punched so many times in the last few minutes it was all starting to feel like one big hit.  
He watched the light fade quickly, eyes fixed on the reflection of the street lights on the dew glistened cement.  
And then there was no reflection.

Piecing your brain back together is fucking hard. And painful.  
Slade didn’t quite remember when his brain had healed enough that he could feel his pain receptors firing again, but it was painful to say the least.  
 _Really, Slade? Feeling a bullet in your brain is painful? Never would have guessed! Bless us with more of this amazing knowledge and wisdom._  
Great, just when he was already in a piss poor attitude, he had caught the sickness known as ‘Dick Grayson Snark’. Perfect. Cause what he need while his brain slowly healed itself was running commentary.  
most people didn’t know the feeling of healing from a head wound, and they did not want to. Slade was one of the few unlucky bastards who had experience.  
His brain was literally in pieces, there was blood and cerebral fluid everywhere but he couldn’t feel it yet- couldn’t feel anything much yet- cause his nerves weren’t working. once his brain finally got it’s shit together and started fixing itself he could eventually feel his pain receptors firing again. by then his heart was starting to consider running, which got his blood pumping, but it had been sitting there for long enough that it was diseased and horrible which isn’t great for one’s liver. So, his limbs are dead, his head felt like Hell itself and he was just starting to gain some other senses back. unfortunately by the time he was "alive", he was once again dying of blood poisoning. And that’s a whole ‘nother story.  
So, in short, it took Slade a while to be considered a living breathing human again.  
He was groggy. he needed coffee. Or vodka. Or both. His wall was covered in blood. He apparently had some training to catch up on considering he hadn’t seen the sharpshooter. He also had a window to fix. And he needed to buy groceries.   
All this went out the window when he saw Dick had hit his distress signal.  
Considering his new wall décor it was very clear the court of owls was out for Dick, which left no room for dilly dallying.   
He suited up and headed to the place where the signal was coming from.

Tim and Aqualad weren’t sure who they should and shouldn’t tell about the note, and therefore they decided not to tell anyone in case it was just a huge mistake. They didn’t need the team worrying about a mole in their midst, especially if the suspect was Night wing.   
They were sure, however, that they needed to find night wing and confront him about the whole mystery.   
Looking at where he’d been through traffic camera’s and security cameras revealed absolutely nothing. They could not get an idea as to where he could be based on where he most often was seen. They had no idea where to look except Bludhaven in general, which was a big city with a lot of residents. Dick Grayson himself had not shown up in any newspapers and no one of a description similar to his had been spotted anywhere.   
This did not inspire confidence in the idea that he had not turned against the JLA.  
Why would Dick not have contacted them? Why would he actively attempt to not be found- because he would have to be actually trying for them to not have found any clues yet. Was someone threatening him? What for?   
Tim had stayed up all night looking for clues and was now with Aqualad in a separate room discreetly investigating the mystery that was Dick Grayson.   
The screens in front of them seemed mocking as they showed them absolutely nothing of use.  
“wait,” Aqualad suddenly ordered, pointing to a video feed of some rich business in Bludhaven, “play that one back.”  
Tim brought the video full screen, replaying the feed till Aqualad said stop.  
They watched as a silhouette grappled to the building, climbed over to the top of the roof and disappeared. No other footage with the building in view showed the silhouette after it reached the top.  
“any other people you know who like to grapple around Bludhaven?” Aqualad asked.  
“not that I can recall. Let’s see what I can find on this building.”  
It turned out to be some kind of manufacturing business local to Bludhaven. Why would Dick disappear into a manufacturing business that had never been in the news aside from when it had donated money to Arkham Asylum?   
“this makes no sense whatsoever. Maybe it’s not Dick?” Tim wondered.   
"let’s think of this differently. Who would want to spread rumours about a mole in the JLA? They could have someone dressing up as Night wing to draw attention or confuse us.” Aqualad sat down, this would be a long list.  
"the light, the injustice league, the league of assassins, the crime syndicate, Luthor, Joker, ultra-humanite, I can go on.” Tim listed.  
"okay, let’s narrow it to people who would want to use night wing against us or attack night wing, for any reason.” Aqualad had a few suspicions, none of which he liked.  
"I mean, if Jason is alive it could be him," Tim thought aloud, but at Kaldur’s look of ‘really?’ said, "but probably not.”  
Aqualad pulled the hologram towards him and started looking for something.  
"what are you doing?” Tim asked.  
"awhile back on a mission we encountered some assassins that separated us, when I next saw Night wing he seemed rattled. I asked him why and he said that the assassins had an interest in recruiting him. He assured me he’d never turn to their side, but if they’re as prideful as some villains I’ve met they may not take no for an answer. They could be blackmailing Night wing somehow.” Kaldur explained.  
"so, what are you looking for?” Tim asked.  
"we encountered the assassins after doing a recon mission on a business called O’Malley enterprise which seemed to be supplying money and weapons to an unknown source using its docks.” Kaldur explained.  
"you’re checking to see if this business is owned by them?” Tim asked.  
"bingo,” Kaldur stated, then showed Tim the screen, "the business is run by Chantelle O’Malley, whose father owns O’Malley Enterprise.”   
"nice detective work, should I be worried?”   
"let’s scope out this business and then decide on that.”

So, Dick wasn’t dead, that was a plus.  
He was in an excruciatingly large amount of pain, however, so… not so great.  
He’d woken up in what was probably a glorified supply closet- glorified because it reeked of money and was too large to just be a supply closet- wrists chained above him to the roof with no weapons or tools to escape. Not even a shirt. Apparently, the court had heard about his abilities when it came to escaping, although he couldn’t see how he’d be able to use a shirt to- oooh.  
Fuck.  
The court obviously had a problem with sharing its toys, even if said toy had never agreed to the contract. Either they planned on killing him in a very painful way as punishment and a message to others, or he was fucked even worse than that.  
But why would they go to the trouble of kidnapping him if they weren’t going to kill him? They had a highly trained clone, was that not enough?   
His deduction? He was very much dead unless he could escape or Slade managed to learn how to think again.  
So, what did he have to work with?  
He was not going to be able to pull the rope out of the wall, it was strong, he was bound well with it and it looked like it had been tied into a bolt cemented into the roof.   
Which meant that this place was commonly used for torture sessions, which meant these people were well practiced in the art of almost killing someone, but not quite getting there.  
Fuck.  
Okay, so either cut the rope or… that’s it.  
Okay.  
What else?  
The supply room- because it was too big to be a closet- had a drain in the ground, a bench against the wall with tools spread across it that he didn’t want to look at, a door in front of him, a camera in the corner and a warm-toned light bulb keeping it all visible. The only things he could cut the rope with were well out of reach.  
Fuck.  
It was so quiet.  
Quiet enough that he could hear the camera whirring as it moved. By now they’d know he was awake.  
Fuck.  
He heard heavy footsteps from outside the door- a tactic, classic, they’d read the book on how to psych a prisoner out that’s for sure.  
Fuck.  
The door opened.  
It was his clone.  
Fuck.  
He locked the door behind him.  
There was nothing Dick could do.  
Fuck.  
The clone smirked, that was it, before moving to the side of the room with his tools.  
Is this how Jason felt?  
Fuck.  
He could not let them win.  
He’d heard of how the court made its talon’s, and it started like this. And it ended several months or several years later with either death or obedience.  
He would not be a talon.  
Over his fucking dead body.  
And he would not let them see how scared he was.  
He was alone, and he was scared.  
But he was not going to let them see that.  
Fuck.  
His clone chose something from the bench that Dick did not want to look too closely at.  
“so,” his clone stood behind him, and it chilled Dick to not be able to see what he was doing, when he would attack. “let’s begin.”  
Dick took a deep breath.  
“will you pledge yourself to the court?”  
“over my dead body.”  
He laughed.  
Fuck.  
He laughed.  
And he brought down the whip in his hand.  
And Dick hoped this would end with him dead.


	5. Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade investigates, Kaldur contemplates and Dick wishes for oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a longer chapter for you guys today, enjoy.

Slade took two days to find where Dick had left his bike during the attack.  
He’d sent off the signal _four days ago._  
Oh fuck.  
This was undoubtedly the court and Slade hated what realisations came with that.  
He couldn’t help imaging Dick in some cement room dying slowly as Slade tried to come back to life even slower.  
No no no no no no no.  
That would not happen.  
He knew that would not happen.

It had Taken Tim and Kaldur _four days_ to find that clue, and about four minutes to feel like it was useless.  
Nothing they found proved the two businesses had any dark intentions except for the suspicions from years ago the team had investigated about supplying an unknown source with weapons and using their dock to send unknown substances off the books. That was it. there were no links between the two businesses other than the owners being related, otherwise they had nothing to do with each other. there was no apparent connection to Night wing. No connection to any of the groups they knew that would want to use night wing against the league or be game enough to try and spread rumours about a mole. There was nothing.  
It grated on Tim’s nerves that he knew _nothing_ and it meant that he couldn’t contact his older brother. He had no idea where Night wing was. The past four days he’d disappeared again, not a trace of him anywhere.  
So, he caught Batman up to the problem.  
And not even the dark knight himself could find night wing.  
There was undoubtedly something wrong, and Dick had managed to be right at the centre of it.  
All they could do is attempt to gain information through a recon mission. with no idea what they were walking into.  
Tim silently hoped that his brother was not in trouble.  
Who was he kidding, he always was.

Slade was going insane due to the lack of information he had.  
He’d scanned footage of every camera near Dick’s bike and found where the fight had ended, Dick seemed alive which gave Slade a bit of hope, but it was crushed when he realised what that could mean.  
He’d scanned every camera from around the area they’d fought and found practically nothing, his clone just disappeared into the shadows.  
He’d checked every possible place the court would take him and found nothing. Every business run by rich assholes in Gotham- because that’s what made up the court in his experience. Everywhere.  
He could not find Dick.  
HOW?!  
This was crazy! They just vanished into thin air! Not even Slade could find them, and that was a feat in and of itself.  
Just to be sure he checked over footage from local rich Bludhaven businesses, although he found it unlikely he’d find anything.  
Oh.  
God fucking damn it.  
Dick had not worn the Night wing suit in a decent amount of time, which made someone looking exactly like him in the suit disappearing into a local business in Bludhaven worth checking out.  
Well then, that was close enough to a clue.

Kaldur and Tim were getting used to the feeling of having no idea what to do, which Kaldur found rather depressing.  
The two had spent hours standing in the mission planning room trying to determine the best possible way to get information about Night wing from the Bludhaven business. Batman had gotten involved, and not even he could find out more about the business. the bat was lone-wolfing it, trying to find out about the business by hitting the streets. While he did that, Kaldur and Tim tried to plan a way they could hack into the business’s systems. They’d found they wouldn’t be able do that without being in the building, which they wouldn’t attempt unless they were sure they’d be able to make it in and out without casualties.   
Kaldur was beginning to think they’d just have to storm in and hope for the best, which he would not allow anyone to do. He would not risk the team’s lives like that.   
But he was willing to go on his own.  
Kaldur needed his friend back.   
Leading was something he was a natural at, but even he needed time off. The team had not had a quiet week since who-knows-when, and he was starting to feel the stress creeping up. Night wing was one of the best leaders Kaldur knew, and he was sure the team could tell that Kaldur would benefit from someone helping him lead the team.  
But mainly there was the fact that, in his experience, Night wing seemed like the one hero, other than Superman, who everyone trusted.   
Kaldur would not lose another friend. he would not allow it.  
He heard a bang in the distance, likely the team in the training room, but it made him jump none the less.  
“you alright?” Tim asked, looking up from the building schematics in front of them.  
“yeah, I’m fine,” Kaldur sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation, “just tense.”  
“I know. this is crazy! None of it makes sense,” Tim collapsed on a seat behind him, “I feel like we’re just going in circles.”  
Kaldur took in Tim’s expression, noticing the bags under his eyes, when had Tim last slept?  
“are you feeling alright, Tim?”  
“huh? Oh, yeah. Everything’s hectic back at the cave, it’s chaotic here, and my parents got back from their business trip so now I have to cover up all that whilst maintaining the image of ‘ordinary teenager’ to my parents.” He stood back up, trying to pay attention to the building plans in front of him. It was subtle, but Kaldur could tell he was failing on concentrating on much.  
“why don’t you get some sleep?” he recommended, “I’m pretty sure I saw you drink at least five cups of coffee this morning.”  
“I’m fine,” Tim dismissed, “there’s something about this building that’s bugging me.”  
“nice try kiddo,” Kaldur almost laughed at the glare Tim shot him, “you need sleep.”  
“Kal, I’m fine.”  
“do not make me sedate you just so I know you got at least eight hours of sleep. Because you know I will.”  
Kaldur had a few tricks up his sleeve for dealing with Bat kids that wouldn’t go to sleep, he’d had to use them on five different members in the past ten years and was thus well versed in the art of mothering bat-children.  
“uuugggggghhhhh.”   
Well, at least Tim wasn’t going to take too much persuading this time.  
“Kal- “  
“nope.”  
He was quite sure he could here Tim groaning in annoyance and shuffling his feet all the way to the zeta-tubes.  
Just as he heard Tim leave, he was surprised to hear someone arriving.  
 **Kid Flash B0-3 **  
Kaldur was about to turn off the screens, but nothing beats speedsters.  
Wally was in the mission room in milliseconds.  
“what’s this?”  
Oh, shit.  
“uh, it’s…” Kaldur fumbled for something to say and a way to turn off the screens. Too late. He just managed to see Wally’s eyes move as he quickly read everything laid out holographically through the air.  
Wally just raised an eyebrow and Kaldur knew he was going to have to spill.****

****

****Jason almost shot the person in their head when he walked into his kitchen and found them lounging.  
“walked in”, that’s funny.   
He came in through the window.  
His guest was lounging on his couch with a gun casually hanging from his fingers, taking up the entire couch with both his sheer muscle mass and arrogance.   
“good afternoon,” Death stroke greeted.  
Jason pointed his gun at the mercenary’s head, it likely wouldn’t stop him but having a weapon pointed at him made him feel better.  
The man just tsked in annoyance, “calm down Red hood, that is what you’re calling yourself right?”  
Jason just glared.  
“I’m here under strictly peaceful terms, specifically the fact that I need back up on a… rescue mission.”  
Jason raised an eyebrow, taking off his hood and sitting on the chair facing Death stroke. Gun still pointed at his face.  
“do come off it Todd, I’ve already had to heal from a headshot once in the last few weeks I don’t need a redo.”  
“someone killed you, huh? That deserves a medal.”  
“if you can get in contact with the Court of Owls you can give them one,” Slade shifted in his seat, clipping his gun back to his belt.  
Shit, the court? No thanks, he did not need them messing with his life.  
“a rescue from the court? That’s suicide.”  
“mmm…”  
Must be someone important.  
“sounds fun, but I’m preoccupied.”  
“It’s your brother.”  
What?  
“Dick. He was captured by a Talon.”  
Shit.  
“I’d go in on my own but it’s the court. ‘course this could just end with you dead again but-“  
“what’s the plan?”** **

****Dick was quite sure the hall was probably some masterpiece of architecture, but his vision wasn’t in top condition and therefore had other more important things to be focusing on.  
Like how his injuries were healing surprisingly fast.  
He heard light background noise, then “I roughed him up bit.”  
‘a bit’.  
Sure.  
“I don’t remember authorising that Replica,” stated a deep, robotic voice.  
“I was bored, and the handlers you supply are…”  
There was a sound like a body being dragged across a floor, a sound he was too familiar with, then dropped.  
“less-than entertaining.”  
Did he kill his handler? What the fuck? Did he have any mental stability?  
“Replica, you follow orders.”  
“yeah I know.”  
Replica? Well… probably a better name than he could have come up with.  
“is he still alive?” aw, they did care.  
Someone grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. the edges of his vision was murky, and most of the room was black which wasn’t helpful.  
Shit.  
The man standing in front of him was a tall hunk of shadow, cloaked, with an ivory white owl mask covering his whole face.  
Oh, he was fucked.  
“Gray Son.”  
“it’s more like one word than two, but okay.”  
“still snarky, hmm?” mister owl looked down at him as disapprovingly as one could when their face was covered with an owl mask. “you will be our Gray Son of Gotham. Our Talon.”  
"no offence, but hard pass.”   
"we’ll see about that.”  
"why do you need me?” Dick gestured to Replica with his tied hands, "you have this asshole.”  
"clones are difficult to control, as I’m sure you know. he has only a few basic emotions and abilities and can’t think as analytically as a human.” He explained, "he is an echo compared to your abilities- especially once we turn you into our Talon.”  
"thank you, exposition king. the offer is tempting, but those masks really aren’t my style.”  
"the court will not be denied.”  
Dick was about to speak again but was distracted when he felt a sharp pain from his neck. His head jerked to the side to see Replica injecting a green-looking liquid into his neck. Before he could move away, the already blurred black edges of his vision got worse and his head pounded with his heartbeat.  
And then it was back to the dark.** **

****“you have to involve the team.” Wally said, looking up from the holographic plans.  
“we can’t,” Tim argued, “we don’t know enough about the situation to do anything- we’d be going in blind.”  
“plus, we investigated this business awhile back, the assassins that we dealt with were highly trained, it was a miracle we managed to escape before someone was badly injured.” Kaldur explained, “we can’t involve the team until we know that this mission isn’t too dangerous for them.”  
Wally almost argued, but the members of the team had changed since he’d been a member, the likelihood that the team had a lot of new heroes that would not be capable in the situation was high.  
“does the bat know?”  
“yes, he’s trying to get information using his own methods. But so far, we’ve reached a dead end,” Tim explained, “we might just have to go in blind.”  
“we can’t,” Wally objected.  
“we?” Kaldur asked.  
“Dick is my friend,” Wally sighed, “I’m helping you find him.”  
“I thought you wouldn’t ever be a hero again?” Tim asked.  
“I won’t, but we have an argument to finish.”  
Kaldur smiled.** **

****

****Dick couldn’t breathe.  
How long had it been? Days? A week? It can’t have been long, he was quite sure he’d have died after two weeks of this. Every day just blurred together, a haze of pain and questions.  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
No no no no no.  
Pain pain pain pain pain.   
Sometimes he’d have a few seconds to catch his breath and watch as his skin started to heal. Too quickly. He wasn’t complaining, but he was quite sure he didn’t have a healing factor.  
Had they injected him with something to stop him from dying? Was that it?  
They couldn’t have, they’d injected something into him once and, considering the types of liquids he knew that could give healing factors, that small amount was not enough.  
So, what was it?  
Trying to figure out that problem distracted him from his current one, so he trailed the thought process as far as it went with so little information.  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’   
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
‘will you pledge yourself to the court?’  
No no no no no.  
Pain pain pain pain pain.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
And then he thought…  
Could it have been Slade?  
He’d spent four years with the mercenary, who had an amazing healing factor and likely had access to whatever gave it to him. What did give him his healing factor? He’d never asked.  
What if he’d been sneaking something into Dick’s food or water over the years?   
What if?  
What if?  
What if?  
What if?  
What if?  
What if he could get out of these chains?  
What if he could escape?  
He tried.  
Found a way to fray the rope till it snapped and ran.  
What about Replica?  
The memory was fuzzy.  
He’d hit him over the head with something and ran.  
He’d been caught though. Easily.  
Too many guards.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
It got worse after that.  
Pain.   
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
And now…  
He woke up.  
Where was he?  
It was dark, black shifted in the edges of his vision. He thought he saw a shadow and turned but found nothing but more darkness. There was nothing.  
“Dick.”  
Batman.  
Right in front of him.  
Was he here before?  
What was going on?  
“I never should have trusted you.”  
What?  
Something shifted in his vision. Batman faded out, like a glitch in a system.  
Was this a dream?  
There was a scream, and it sounded like-  
His parents’ deaths flashed before his eyes, falling.  
They hit the ground and he felt a pull in his gut.  
He was falling.  
Someone had pushed him.  
He turned as he fell, Slade was looking down at him.  
No.  
He hit the ground, and he didn’t die.  
Why couldn’t he die?  
He looked down, and around he saw…  
He almost threw up.  
Bodies.  
Batman, Wally, Slade, Jason, Tim, his parents, Barbara, Kaldur, Conner, Megan, Zatanna, Raquel, Artemis.  
And more, the people he knew were a sea of bodies, bones and blood.  
“YOU DID THIS!”   
It was a scream echoing around him.  
“MURDERER!”  
“Gray Son.”  
No.  
He wouldn’t.  
He ran, tripped.  
There was more blood, all over him.  
And…  
A uniform.  
Black on black, knives strapped to a belt, a gun.  
He couldn’t breathe.  
There was something on his face.  
He pulled it off.  
A mask.  
An owl disguise, an eye mask with glass goggles shone.  
And his reflection.  
Gold eyes and veins cracking up his neck and over his cheeks.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
He would never.  
He did.  
MURDERER.  
It was a ring in his ears.  
It dug into his skull, a shrill reminder following him as he ran.  
He got nowhere.  
Someone grabbed him, pulled the mask over his head and pushed him forwards.  
He watched through his eyes as his hand pulled off one of the knives and threw it, right into someone’s skull.  
No no no no no no no no no.  
“good job.”  
No no no no no no no no no.  
“you’re one of us now.”  
No.  
“a Talon.”  
NO.** **

****He woke up. Truly woke up this time.  
Still in the same damn place.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
Pain.  
“it’s inevitable.”   
Dick’s vision was blurred, he could barely see anything past his nose.  
Someone jerked his head up.  
“IT’S INEVITABLE!”  
Replica.  
Dick’s own eyes stared back at him, crazed.  
“I’ve seen people stronger than you turn against their family after a month in here!” He laughed manically, then continued lower “you’ll be their obedient dog by the end of the week.”  
No.  
“no come back?” he raised an eyebrow then let Dick go. His head dropped. He had no energy left, especially not enough to keep his head up. “you’ll either die in here or come out broken.” Replica laughed again.  
No.  
He’d rather die.  
But he knew he wouldn’t. Replica knew what he was doing. He’d push him to the edge and stop just before he could slip into oblivion.  
And it was very obvious he had a healing factor.  
He could just see some of his flesh knit together slightly, the blood trickling fractionally less.  
He couldn’t decide if he was thankful for the healing factor.  
On one hand it was stopping him from dying.  
On the other…  
It was stopping him from dying.** **

****Slade was well aware that the whole rescue mission was practically suicide. He just couldn’t get himself to care. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to someone that he was willing to go into a situation like this one guns blazing. He knew that the likelihood the court would tear him to so many pieces he wouldn’t be able to come back was likely. But he couldn’t convince himself to care. The longer he did nothing the more guilt ate away at him.  
Was this his fault? No.  
Did that matter? No.  
He had a chance, a possibility, that he could save Dick and that was all that mattered. He would not be able to get a decent night’s rest until he at least tried to save his friend.   
Something told him Jason was experiencing something similar.   
“are you sure this is all the information you have on these guys?” Jason asked.   
Papers were strewn across the coffee table and carpet between them- because it was always easier to keep information on paper in case you needed to dispose of it- that contained everything Slade had on the court and the building they guessed Dick was being held in. he’d studied the building blueprints for so long his eyes got tired and he could remember every corner of the structure.   
“yes,” Slade answered, “the court has security measure after security measure. I can’t hack their systems, I can’t find anyone who knows anything. This is it.”  
“mmm.” Jason hummed.   
Slade sighed, “we’re just going to have to run in blind.”  
“that’s suicide,” Jason said, although he didn’t look like he had a better idea.  
Slade sighed again, flipping through a few of the pages absent-mindedly as he tried to develop a plan.  
“how did you and Dick become friends?” Jason asked, making a show of looking Slade straight in the eye, “you two seem like an unlikely team.”  
Slade shrugged, “we met up after that Kid Flash guy disappeared. He wanted nothing to do with the bat, I… was probably drunk.” Slade snorted, “we fought in a back alley, he lost, I offered him training offhandedly. I didn’t expect him to agree, I was glad he did though.”  
Jason chuckled, “he’s like that. Unpredictable. And annoying.”  
“eh, he grows on you.” Slade joked. “what about you, mister Wayward son? You’re trying to act like a mob boss or something. You hate the bat but not Dick?”  
“why don’t we try and save my brother instead of bond over our life stories?”  
Slade chuckled, “alright, any ideas?”  
“nope.”  
“well then, load your guns and let’s get ready to rumble.”** **

****

****“we can’t just go in blind.” Aqua lad explained.  
“so, what, we wait for whatever this is to blow over on its own? Dick could be in serious trouble and you want to just let him figure this out on his own?” Wally defended.  
“I’m with Wally here,” Tim agreed. “we’ve done more dangerous things before. We have the building plans, we could find him.”  
“absolutely not.” Batman said, “we have no idea what organisation is behind this. One wrong step and the whole operation goes south.”  
“agreed.” Aqualad said, “we need more information.”  
“we can’t abandon Dick!” Wally argued.  
“no,” Kaldur agreed, “we won’t. we have facial recognition systems, we program every camera we have access to so that it alerts us as soon as it recognises Dick. Until then we continue to gather information until we’re sure that we won’t leave that building dead.”  
Wally sighed, “fine.”** **


	6. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade and Jason's new partnership is put into effect and Batman's facial reconditioning picks something up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised I bolded most of last chapter. am I gonna fix it? honestly, no. I cannot be bothered.  
> hope you enjoy this, it's a bit longer than the last chapter I think. :)

“you wanted to see me? Sir.” Replica added on the formality like a disrespectful acknowledgement.  
“has Grayson joined us?” the grandmaster asked.  
“no,” Replica smirked, “he is determined, I’ll give him that. Although I’m quite sure I’m close to breaking him.”  
“his healing factor?”  
“has been difficult to deal with, but it was an easy hurdle.”  
“good.” The grandmaster picked up a bag and threw it to the clone, “start preparing him to be turned into a talon. He’ll need a better healing factor than the one he’s got if he’s going to deal with our enemies.”  
Replica rolled his eyes, “yes sir.”  
He left the hall.  
He hated this place. It was cold and dark and disgusting. The whole part of the building owned by the court was underground, which led to him feeling cramped and dead inside. If there was one thing he was glad he got from Dickhead it was his love of freedom and the feeling of flying.   
He wasn’t stupid. He knew that as soon as Grayson turned they’d kill him. He was too difficult to control. They didn’t have enough of his DNA when they’d made Replica, leaving holes that they had no time to fill.   
He was unpredictable at best and fucking insane at worst.  
He would enjoy the aftereffect the talon’s healing factor gave. As soon as Grayson saw himself with golden eyes and veins he’d panic. It’d be quite the show.   
But by the time that happened Replica would be seconds away from death.  
He had a back-up plan for as soon as he’d served his purpose. He’d escape, he had some money, he had some gear.  
He’d get out of the court’s hands and then…  
He’d choose a place to paint red with blood.

Jason was woken up by a bucket of ice cold water.  
“WHAT THE SHIT?!”  
“get up Todd.”  
Slade.   
“you got your gear?”  
Jason sighed, “yes.”  
“good. Dry off and get ready.”  
They had a plan.  
They’d noticed the fact that the building seemed to have an underground section. It didn’t seem like much, but if the court was holding Dick anywhere it’d be there.   
They’d sneak in and make up the plan from there.  
That counted as a plan, right?  
Jason didn’t care. Dick had been captured by the Court of Owls for a week, if he was still alive then they couldn’t waist another second.   
They’d considered calling the league, but they couldn’t. the league wouldn’t trust Slade, and they definitely wouldn’t believe him. And Jason liked his anonymity of being a dead man. If his own personal plans of revenge were to hold up he couldn’t have the league on his ass.   
Jason dried off, dressed, strapped on his gear and met Slade in the alley next to the apartment block.  
They’d either rescue Dick or die trying.

Dick had come to a decision; he fucking hated healing factors.  
Oh, sure, it was all fine and dandy when you didn’t want to die, but as soon as you’re in a situation where death is preferable you’re fucked.  
Replica’s face was the exact same as his once, but now… ehhhhh…  
The air stank of burnt skin, blood and sweat, which was sickening as is but with the edition of knowing the burnt skin, blood and tears were his own it became about a million times worse.  
Just another terrible day then…  
He really needed a drink.  
“there we go, feeling better? Don’t answer that, I don’t care.”   
Replica disconnected the tubes from Dick’s back.   
What had he been injecting Dick with? Did he care?  
His vision blurred as he tried to focus on Replica’s movements, but pain made things foggy.   
He felt sicker for a moment, if that was possible. For a moment he felt like he could feel the blood pumping through his veins- if there was still any blood in his body left.   
The itchy and uncomfortable feeling of having an injury healing too quickly for it to be normal settled on his skin. He groaned, trying to focus on his injuries and keep track of his wounds. Keeping his mind busy was great, especially if it meant keeping track of how close to death he was. His eye caught a flash of colour that definitely shouldn’t be near his skin.  
Gold.  
Gold?  
Excuse me what?  
He focused as best he could, and realised his vision was slowly getting better.  
Wait.  
Shit, what?  
The areas around his injuries were… gold.  
His veins were… gold.  
The skin around his injuries looked like cracks, running with gold.  
Shit, what?  
“look pretty?” Dick looked up into a mirror that Replica had pointed him. Old, cracked at the bottom and dust covered.  
Shit.  
What?  
Gold eyes stared right back at him, veins sprawled across his neck and up onto his cheeks like cracks in a porcelain doll, shining against his red stained skin.  
No.  
No no no no no no no no no no.  
No.  
“the grandmaster figured he couldn’t have his Talon dying in here because of his stubbornness.” Replica explained, his smirk shining behind the mirror.  
No no no no no no no no.  
His breath caught in his throat.  
No.  
He couldn’t focus.  
No.  
No no no no no, wait.  
He- no.  
NO!  
HE WAS NOT A TALON!  
NO NO NO NO NO NO!  
He couldn’t breathe.  
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.  
“you’re practically part of the court now.” Replica chuckled, “welcome to the dysfunctional family.”  
Was Dick even breathing anymore? He felt lightheaded so probably not. He couldn’t really acknowledge his light-headedness, however, because he was too busy FUCKING PANICKING.   
He was worried about the team thinking he wasn’t the same night wing as before, what the fuck was he going to do now?   
He could not let anyone see him like this without immediately panicking.  
No no no no no no no no.  
He was not a talon!  
“silent, huh? Considering the clothing options? I hear black goes well with gold.”  
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Dick yelled.  
“hey, there we go.” Replica laughed, “what will your little hero friends think of you now, huh? I’m sure they’ll be so happy to trust the guy who looks just like a Talon. Like a blood thirsty, merciless killer. What do you think they’ll say, mister Grayson, when they find out you were born to kill!”  
"I SAID SHUT UP!” Dick tugged on the chains holding him. He really wasn’t doing himself any good, just irritating any of the remaining injuries left and making a fool of himself. But lashing out was easier than accepting he was done for.  
The only way he was leaving this room was as a talon.  
Replica was laughing again. hysterically. It reminded Dick of the Joker. Chilling and foreboding.  
"let’s see what we can do now that we don’t have to worry about death, shall we?”  
Replica left his field of vision again, going to grab something else to destroy Dick’s physical health.  
Dick tried to gather his strength to prepare for it. just because he could now heal faster than ever didn’t mean he wouldn’t be feeling any pain. In fact, it’d probably be worse, because Replica wouldn’t be holding back.  
"will you pledge yourself to the court?”  
This again?  
"no.”  
He was not a-  
He was lost in the searing white hot pain once again.

"you ready?” Slade checked.  
"yep.” Jason clicked the safety off his gun, absentmindedly keeping a list of every weapon he had on him.  
"I’ll meet you at the entrance to the basement.”  
"roger, roger.” Jason said, firing a grappling hook at the building’s window and soaring straight through the glass.  
The rescue had begun.

Slade shot down a hallway and scrambled down some steps.  
The guards in this place were way too well trained for normal security.  
He took cover behind a door and shot them in the back of their heads as they passed.  
Apparently, they were not smarter than normal security.  
They were hoping to cause enough of a ruckus in the higher levels of the building so that they drew people up whilst they snuck down to rescue Dick. It probably wouldn’t work, but it was worth a shot.  
Slade shot another few guards on the way down some steps, then ran through the halls as fast as possible.   
He got to the ground floor, shot the remaining annoyances and made his way to the back of the building.   
"’bout time," Jason pushed off from the wall he was leaning on, "I thought for a moment I’d have to go in without you.”  
"you underestimate my abilities.”  
Slade kicked down the door to the storeroom which hid a staircase behind it’s fake wall.  
"after you," Jason insisted with manners as fake as the wall.  
Slade rolled his eyes and made his way down into the dark, his gun pointed ahead at the ready.  
He’d figured out a while ago that someone had leaked the information on the secret basement directly to him, which meant someone expected them to show up.  
Great, more people to put bullets through.  
The stairs led into a dark hallway, cliché but expected, which twisted in every direction possible like a fucking labyrinth.  
"which way do we go?” Jason asked.  
"dunno, the map didn’t have this part.”  
"great.” Jason sighed.  
They went straight at every turn; the eerie silence rang in their ears.  
Slade hated the quiet.  
The shadows seemed to shift and every stray movement and sound earned their immediate attention.  
The hallway eventually widened, leading up to a dark wood door carved with an owl.  
"well, at least their consistent with their brand.” Jason observed.  
"oh yeah, they have a thing for owls.” Came a voice behind them.  
Slade pointed the gun right at-  
Dick?  
"don’t get emotional on me, cause I’m not your friend, although he’s here, too.”  
"uh, what?” Jason asked.  
"you’re the clone.” Slade stated, keeping the gun pointed straight at his face.  
"yes. Name’s Replica. Cliché, I know, but I didn’t choose it.” Replica said.  
"where’s Dick?”  
"oh, you know.” Replica said offhandedly, flicking his hand uninterestedly, "he’s around.”  
Slade glared at the clone, Jason trained his own gun on the replica of his brother.  
Replica sighed, "I didn’t expect you to get here so soon, and now my plan’s all thrown off. Your friend’s in one of the cells in the floor below us, the stairs down are at the end of this hall.”  
"why should we trust you?” Jason asked.  
"got any better ideas?” Replica chuckled, "the court would have me killed as soon as they managed to convince Grayson to join their cause, I’m getting myself out of the way of that. I’ve been through Court torture methods before," Replica explained, "trust me when I say that you’ll want to get to your friend as soon as possible.”  
Jason grit his teeth in annoyance, this asshole had this all planned out.  
"au revoir, mister Hood, mister… Stroke? Death? Whatever.” And the clone disappeared into the shadows.  
"come on, let’s get Dick out of here before the court realises what’s going on.” Slade ordered, and they ran down the hall to the stairs.  
They were met with another hall with stairs and turns at the other end, doors on each side. They searched them all and found Dick at the second last one.  
Slade walked into the room and stopped dead in his tracks.  
Shit.  
Jason was behind him, trying to peek over his shoulder.  
Shit.  
Dick was strung up, hanging from the ceiling. blood pooled below him, his skin was stained with it.  
And-  
Shit.  
The injuries were surrounded with golden veins, the skin slowly starting to knit itself back together.  
The silence was so thick he could hear Dick wheezing as he tried to breathe.   
Slade crossed the room in a few steps and set to work on the metal cuffs holding up his friend.  
"Dick?” he asked, trying to see if the hero was awake.  
There wasn’t a response for a while, and during that time Jason walked over to check his brother’s wounds.  
"Slade?”   
The voice was cracked and hoarse, but undeniably Dick’s.  
The cuffs clicked and fell to the ground. Slade caught Dick before he could follow suit.  
"how did you get here?” Dick asked, pulling up his face to meet Slade’s eyes with his own.  
"honestly I’m not even sure.” Slade said, noticing the gold that had replaced Dick’s blue eyes.  
Shit.  
"I’m here, too, by the way.” Jason joked, coming back into Dick’s field of vision.  
Slade was pretty sure he saw Dick drop dead right there.  
"Jason?”  
"hey man, I’m alive. Surprise.”  
"Knew you were alive, just figured you were…” he heaved a breath, “too busy being an angsty anti-hero to bother coming.” Dick joked. His voice was starting to even out, whether that was from what the court had done to him or the need to speak with some semblance of audibility Slade wasn’t sure, but he could also see his injuries slowly healing.  
"come on kid," Slade said, "let’s get you out of here.”

They managed to make it back to the ground floor of the building before they had any trouble.  
As soon as they’d gotten back into the part of the building that was actually legal some worker shouted, "it was them!” right at Slade and Jason, leading a gaggle of annoying guards their way.  
They had expected and planned for this.  
Slade picked Dick up in a fireman’s lift and he and Jason rushed up the nearest staircase to the second floor.  
Slade could hear Dick grumbling his annoyance at being carried.  
"as soon as you heal enough to run on your own I’ll let you down, but until then shut up.” Slade said as he and Jason skidded around a corner and up another set of stairs to the third floor.  
They made their way to the fourth and then hid in an office room, slamming and locking the door behind them.  
Slade let Dick down and scanned his friend for lingering injuries.  
“I’m fine,” Dick assured.  
“you were captured by the Court of Owls for a week, the last thing you are is fine” Jason said, getting his gear together to prepare for their escape.  
“it was a week?” Dick asked, “I thought it was a few days at most.”  
“yeah, pain does that.” Slade said, “can you run?”  
“yeah, I think so.”  
Slade helped him up.  
They’d planned this part, at least, and had planted some gear in the office for their escape. Slade handed Dick a shirt- and mask, just in case, although it probably wouldn’t do any good against decent facial recognition systems- then a grapple hook and a few weapons- a gun, escrima sticks and a dagger.  
Dick strapped the escrima sticks to his back, sheathed the dagger at his side and kept the gun in his hand at the ready.  
“you planned this rather well.” Dick stated.  
“trust me, we did not. We just over prepared.” Jason joked then gestured to the gun, “you taking a page from my book now?”  
“I started using a gun before you started acting like a wannabe gangster Jason, if anything you’re copying me.” Dick joked.  
“does it really matter right now?” Slade asked, opening the window of the office.  
“definitely,” Dick grinned.  
Slade really hoped that Dick wasn’t going to keep up the joking charade forever. As soon as they got back to the safe house he expected Dick would break down.  
Slade noticed in the background of his mind that sirens were wailing, the guards weren’t pounding on the door and there was definitely a commotion going on four floors down.  
The three of them got their gear together and grappled to the opposite building, Slade helped Dick up as his knees hit the roof- he was still close to collapse, with this new healing factor settling into his skin. They ran across the roof and then used the fire escape to make it to the ground of the alley. From there they ran.  
Dick noticed the shadows moving in the corner of his vision first and pushed Jason out of the way of a dagger thrown his way.  
“Court sent some lackeys.” Dick warned Slade, who turned and shot in the direction of their pursuers.  
“run!” Jason ordered, grabbing Dick by the arm and pulling him along. The two fired behind them at the talons but stopped. They had more chance of escaping if they just ran, shooting was slowing them down.  
They turned a corner and a guard from the building slid out from the alley in the building’s direction, right in front of them.  
Slade was too far behind them to react.  
He shot as soon as he got footing, Jason flung Dick and himself to the ground.  
Dick was quite sure time slowed when they hit. The guard sprinted forwards as they pulled out a pistol and-  
A bullet hit the gun straight down the barrel. Another one tore straight through the guard’s chest.  
Dick froze.  
Jason tugged him up from the ground.  
Slade caught up and the three kept running.  
Dick just killed someone.  
What.  
what?  
No.  
A voice rang in his ears.  
“Talon.”  
The sound of the world rushed back in as he ran, Jason was yelling at him to speed up.  
He mentally shook his head of cobwebs.  
He’d deal with it later.  
Right now, he had to run.

Wally, Kaldur and Tim were all in the watchtower when Batman appeared.  
“facial recognition has alerted me to Dick’s location.” Bats explained.  
“what?!” Wally shot up from the couch he was on, immediately alert.  
“where is he?” Kaldur asked.  
Batman pulled up a holographic feed of the cameras they had in place. The recording showed two men running past the camera, it froze and zoomed on one of them.   
The recognition software clearly labelled him as Dick, although it was dark and his features weren’t obvious the camera could pick up on the basic shape of Dick’s facial features. it couldn’t find out who the other man was.  
“where is that?” Tim asked.  
“downtown Bludhaven, near the business we were investigating.” The bat explained, “this is what worries me though.” He played the footage again and another man ran past the camera.   
They didn’t need facial recognition software to recognise him, the suit the man wore was enough.  
Death stroke.  
“that explains why Dick didn’t contact us,” Kaldur realised, “Death stroke must be threatening him, maybe even blackmailing him.”  
“my thoughts exactly.” Batman replied, turning off the holographic screens.  
“Death stroke?” Wally Exclaimed, “how the hell has Dick gotten caught up with Death Stroke of all people?!”  
“who knows,” Tim said, with a voice that sounded like he wanted to both roll his eyes and face-palm.  
“we have to get to him,” Kaldur said, “Death stroke is well-trained, Dick will need back-up.”  
“then what are we waiting for?” Batman asked.


	7. Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the cavalry arrives, unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know I tagged it Dick Grayson is a Talon, realistically what needs to be added is 'eventually')

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  
Dick, Slade and Jason were practically fighting back-to-back as the talons converged on their location. In total there were probably only about twenty of them, but they fought like 300 trained fighters.  
Dick’s healing factor got him back to a decent level of physical health, but the constant strain his body was under was not helping his chances.   
A small voice at the back of his head worried over whether or not he’d killed anyone else during this fight, the larger part of his brain said, ‘SHUT UP I’M TRYING TO NOT DIE’.  
Guess which part won.  
He noticed a second or two of shock from Jason when he and Slade started fighting together like the dynamic duo 2.0 plus murder, but Jason seemed to realise that questioning the past four years did not come before the priority of staying the fuck alive.  
Eventually Dick ran out of bullets and was left with his escrima sticks, Jason seemed to be using solely his bo staff and fists now, although Slade seemed to have an unlimited inventory of bullets. Regardless he switched to his katanas rather quickly.  
The three fought against the talons until only about fifteen of them were left.  
This was crazy. They’d grown up with stories about the court of owls, how could they beat so many? Dick tried not to question their good luck, that usually led to it suddenly going south.   
He noticed from his peripheral vision as a talon flung a dagger straight at Jason.  
Had he seen it?  
No.  
Jason didn’t move out of the way, and the dagger kept gliding towards him.   
Dick tried to get rid of the talon he was currently fighting, but it was all too late.  
He watched the dagger fly straight for his brother and-  
Someone caught it.  
Dick was so shocked by the sudden appearance of Wallace Rudolph West that he almost took a right hook straight to the jaw.  
Almost.  
Dick quickly dodged the blow and used the talon’s momentum against him to throw him over his shoulder to the ground like a ragdoll.  
“Wally?!”  
“evening!” Wally greeted, dodging a few daggers.  
“what the hell our you doing here?” Jason asked, throwing another Talon towards Slade so he could shoot it.  
“we’re here to help!” came the very familiar voice of a certain fishy friend.  
Aqualad and Robin jumped down from the balcony of the warehouse they’d ended up fighting in, landing smack in the middle of the impromptu fighting ring.  
Dick had a split second of guilt and embarrassment as he noticed the moment Aqualad saw the gold veins on Dick’s face.  
Oh god no.  
“good job getting yourself into a huge mess, Night wing.” Tim joked, jumping straight into the fight.  
Dick almost cringed at the alias. It was a title he couldn’t live up to at this point.  
He went back to the fight, trying to keep track of everyone. Slade was fighting on his own, Jason and Wally were back to back, Tim and Kaldur were fighting together as well.  
A black silhouette glided down into the fray from the balcony, and Dick’s heart almost stopped.  
Batman.  
Oh, fuck no.  
He took a hit straight to the face and decided he’d have to leave the thinking to when he wasn’t fighting for his life.

Batman launched straight into the fight without a word. He barely bothered to assess the situation.  
He found Dick in the scene and fought his way over. Whoever these assholes were, they were extremely good fighters, and it didn’t help that literally any injury he gave them seemed to disappear in seconds.  
The owl costumes made it obvious who they were; the Court of Owls.  
Slade and the Court? God, what had Dick managed to get himself into?  
Eventually he found his way to his son but couldn’t ask him anything because the enemy they were up against were so ridiculously well-trained that he couldn’t keep his attention on more than one thing. The only way to get them down was to dish out a severe injury, and even then they were back up in no time.   
He noticed Death stroke in the corner of his eye fighting over to Night wing and panicked. This was utter chaos.  
Maybe if he’d been able to stop and think he’d have realised sooner that Death stroke was on their side in this fight.  
He and Night wing ended up fighting back-to-back at one point, but he couldn’t guess a single one of Night wing’s moves. His fighting style was too different for Batman to keep up. The dynamic they once had was clunky and awkward.   
Dick seemed to be perfectly capable of keeping up with Batman’s moves, but batman had no idea what Night wing’s fighting style was anymore and it hindered him so much that he had to start fighting away from his son. He was absent-mindedly keeping an eye on him, however, so he didn’t lose him in the battle.  
And then Death stroke caught up.  
He appeared between Bruce and Dick in a crazy halo of bullets. Batman tried to fight off the talon he was against as quickly as he could so he could help Night wing, but by the time he turned around he’d realised that Death stroke wasn’t attacking Dick.  
What?  
The two fought back-to-back, predicting each other’s moves with ease and managing to fight on their own whilst still catching any attacks towards the other that they’d missed.  
Batman watched as Slade tossed one talon to Dick whilst attacking another, they flowed from movement to movement working seamlessly. Slade caught a blow on its way to Dick and they shared a look that Bruce recognised from when he and Dick had worked together.  
What?  
The two had the same dynamic that Batman and Night wing had once shared, and it made Bruce freeze for a moment.   
A moment was enough for a talon to get a hit on him, which pulled him back into the fight.  
No time.  
He’d question his son later.  
He ended up being pulled away from the two, something he did not appreciate.  
The talon’s numbers had decreased to about one per fighter. Bodies of the downed talons, bearing particularly severe injuries, that he was quite sure Slade was responsible for, were splayed across the floor of the warehouse.   
Had all of the talons been killed or had some fallen back? Batman was not sure.   
Eventually he turned from the talon he’d knocked out to find that there were none left still fighting.

As soon as Dick realised the fight was over he was met with a punch in the face.   
“you son of a bitch!” oh it was Wally, that was unsurprising. “where the hell have you been?!”  
“good to see you, too, Wally.” Dick responded, rubbing his check as he stood straight.  
“don’t ‘good to see you’ me, I come out of the speed force and hear you’ve been missing for four years!” Wally ranted, “I thought you were dead!”   
Dick almost answered but was cut off by Jason doubling over with laughter.  
“And who’s this?” Wally asked.  
Dick just sighed, “long story.”  
“I’m pretty sure you have a few of those,” Slade joked, coming into the conversation after checking over his gear, he slid a sword away as Dick’s attention focused on him.   
Dick was so dumb.  
He did not realise that as soon as Aqualad, Robin, Batman and Wally saw Slade they would immediately attack.   
Which is pretty much what happened.  
Wally ran to protect Tim, and probably stop him from stupidly attempting to pick a fight with the mercenary, Kaldur pulled out his blades and Batman…  
Surprisingly did nothing, so at least he was smart enough to catch up.  
“wow, wow, wow, calm down.” Jason ordered, pointing one of his guns straight at Kaldur before he could attack Deathstroke. He must have stolen it from one of the talons or Slade during the fight.  
Kaldur was shocked at that order, but even more shocked when Dick moved in front of him to stop him from attacking Slade.  
“are you defending a mercenary?” Kaldur asked.  
“it’s a long story Kal, but you can trust him.”   
“unlikely,” Tim said.  
Dick gave him a look and hoped it got his point across.  
“explain. Now.” Batman ordered.  
“bad idea,” Slade said, “the court will be sending reinforcements.”  
“agreed. I have a safe house nearby, we can talk it out there.” Jason offered.   
“who are you again? why should we trust you?” Tim asked.  
Jason sighed in annoyance, “are you dumb? How can you not tell?”  
“are we supposed to know who you are?” Wally asked.  
This time it was Dick’s turn to interrupt Jason with a fit of laughter, although it was subdued and cut shirt quickly. Jason looked like he needed a camera to stare into like he was on the office.   
“he’s Jason Todd,” Slade explained in a dead-pan voice, which didn’t take away from the shock on the others faces.  
“dude.”   
“shut up, Dickhead, we don’t have time for the emotional family reunion.” Slade said.   
“excuse me what?” Wally asked.  
“I’m with Wilson, let’s get to my safe house before we get killed.” Jason said.

‘shut up, dickhead.’  
That sentence worried Wally.  
‘dickhead’.  
Like he knew Dick’s name? his identity? did he? Why? How? What?  
They’d gone to back Dick and unknown red-dude against Death stroke and been met with a fight where they were battling everyone but Death stroke.   
His brain was now in a constant state of ‘um, what?’, it stayed in that state as not-quite-dead Jason Todd lead them to his safe house. There wasn’t much chatting, Batman and Robin kept to the shadows on the way there, Dick, Jason and Death stroke seemed to have an addiction to travelling via roofs and Kaldur didn’t seem in the conversational mood.  
So, it seemed all explanations would be left to when they arrived.  
They snuck in through the door to the fire escape and were met with a very basic, undecorated set of couches surrounding a coffee table and facing a TV, faded off-white counters and a fridge. A hallway disappeared off into darkness to what was probably basic bedroom and bathroom.  
Or a dungeon, you could never really predict things when Jason was involved.   
Slade immediately crashed on one of the sofas, getting comfy in preparation for a long conversation.   
Jason made a beeline for the kitchen, muttering an “I need a drink,” before raiding the counters.  
Dick picked up a piece of paper that looked like building blueprints that had been heavily drawn on.  
“aw, you do care.” He joked, showing the basic makings of some kind of plan to Slade.  
“yeah, maybe let’s talk about why that’s weird.” Wally transitioned, plonking onto the couch.  
“wait, so, you’re Jason Todd?” Tim asked. Wally threw his hands in the air in annoyance at the diversion in the conversation.  
“yes.” He answered, looking over a glass of… some kind of alcohol.  
“aren’t you supposed to be a little less alive?” Tim asked, “like, we had suspicions, but what is going on there.”  
“I don’t know,” Jason shrugged, “all I know is one minute I was in an exploding warehouse, the next I was in the Lazarus pits.”  
“the Lazarus pits?!” Wally exclaimed, looking over the top of the couch at the fresh hell that was Jason Todd, “excuse me what?”  
Jason just shrugged non-committedly.  
“the true zombie experience. Brought back to life by a strange, half-science, half-magic green liquid.” Dick joked.  
“shove off golden boy.”  
The moment of silence was surprisingly encompassing.  
“dude,” Slade said, and his meaning was obvious.  
“geez, I’m gonna need a drink after all this is over.” Dick groaned, rubbing his face.  
Wally and Kaldur shared a look, then “can we get an explanation for that, too, please?” Wally said.   
Slade and Dick shared a look.   
Great. Now Slade could do the weird bat-clan bat-talk thing. Great.  
This was gonna be a long night.


	8. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone sits down for a nice chat, like a family at Christmas...  
> If only.  
> The Bat's judgmental, Slade's angry, Jason wants to sleep and Dick... oh, boy.

Hate was a strong word, and that’s why Slade only said he hated a few select things.  
For instance, he hated the blood-sucking parasites known as lawyers, he hated paedophiles, he hated abusive assholes, headshots, people he couldn’t kill and the colour neon green.  
He also hated the fact that four superheroes had shown up to the party.  
He was hoping that the rescue mission would end with Dick no longer needing rescuing.   
he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to heal from another headshot.  
He was hoping Jason wouldn’t die again (because Dick would be hysterical).  
He was hoping he’d be able to sleep tonight.  
And he was hoping that once he got Dick back from the court he’d be able to give his friend whatever help he needed to heal from the experience he’d just been through.  
The presence of the heroes stopped him from fulfilling one of those hopes, and it was one of the important ones.  
Ever since they’d escaped that building he’d been incapable of noticing this look in Dick’s eyes. Eyes that were bright gold, but ringed with red and surrounded by dark bags and filled with a haunting energy. He could imagine that the memories of the past week were clawing at the back of Dick’s mind and every leftover piece of energy Dick had left was going towards keeping those memories at bay. At least till he was home. At least till he was in his own room where no one was watching.  
If there was one thing Slade had learned about Dick in the past four years it was that he did not like crying in front of people.  
Not because it “showed weakness” or whatever the popular “masculine” trend was, but because it caused problems. Because it involved everyone watching in the problem. He did not like to cry in front of people because he did not like to keep secrets and push people away, and if they saw he was struggling they would want to help and he did not want to actively remove his friends and family from that situation. He did not want to involve people in his problems when in his mind they already had enough of their own.   
So, Dick would push away whatever thoughts and feelings his memories and mind were clustered with until he could let it out in a place where the aftereffects were less messy. Where there’d be less fallout.  
Slade did not enjoy seeing Dick actively experience all of that in such extremity.  
He also did not enjoy the part of this conversation where they were going to have to explain everything that had happened in the past week.   
God this was all one big mess.  
Jason came around his kitchen counter and leaned against the back of the couch, Wally scooted away from him making a face from the smell of whatever drink was in his hand.   
All the while, he and Dick silently communicated as to how to break the subject.  
Slade’s expression said, ‘we should just ditch them and go home.’  
Dick’s said, ‘they deserve answers.’  
Slade’s answered with, ‘and we deserve a full night’s rest, guess which one I’d prefer right now.’  
Dick’s answered with, ‘you are insufferable sometimes.’  
“quit stalling and start talking.” Batman ordered, “when did you two get so chummy?”  
Oh, so he was judgmental and disappointed, huh?  
Slade stood up and looked the bat in the eye, “when I showed that apparently I have more empathy than a bunch of fucking superheroes.” Slade taunted.  
He wanted a fight with the batman, that would be a great end to the night. He could prove to the bat just how little he cared about his attempts at being intimidating and end this conversation quickly enough that he might just manage six hours of sleep. Wouldn’t that be a miracle?  
“Slade,” Dick said, a warning tone in his voice. He said a name but it more meant, ‘Slade, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.’  
The batman narrowed his eyes in a glare, “you need to back down, Wilson, you’re trying to fight in a five-on-one battle here.”  
“five on one, huh?” Slade continued taunting, “sounds off, cause I only see four heroes in here, and three highly trained people who would like some damn rest and have been done with your bullshit for approximately ten years. Two of which have healing factors, and the other a tendency to flirt with death, so how well do you think you making demands around here is gonna go?”  
“Slade siT THE FUCK DOWN AND STOP ACTING LIKE A JEALOUS TODDLER!” Dick exclaimed in his best attempt at an ‘I am so damn pissed off and tired I have lost the ability to feel any emotion other than spite and mild annoyance, so listen to me or you’re about to catch some hands’ voice.   
Slade just glared at the six-foot-something adult man, dressed in black Kevlar and spandex, a cape and actual fucking bat ears.  
Jason audibly sipped his drink.  
Dick sighed, “he and I met not too long after I left the team. He offered me some training, because he was drunk, - “  
“hey!”  
“-and I took him up on the offer.”  
“he’s a mercenary.” Batman said.  
“and I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions in life.” Dick defended.  
“so, you’re still defending a mercenary?” Aqualad asked, Slade forgot the fish boy was there, leaning against the wall and watching silently.  
“no, I’m defending my ability to befriend who I want.” Dick stated, “I mean, seriously, do the names cat woman, Bane, Thalia Al Ghul, Huntress and Poison Ivy ring any bells? Yes? Well, then I suppose we have some high horses to get down from.”   
Jason audibly sipped his drink again, hiding a smile behind the rim of the glass.  
“yeah, okay, whatever. You befriended Slade Wilson, Jason’s alive and they’re both murdering psychopaths – “  
Jason choked on his drink.  
“- we get it, we’re caught up there. Better questions: why did you not communicate with any heroes before going back out as Night wing? What do you three have to do with that business whose building you ran from? How are the Court of Owls involved? And, why does Dick’s face look like it’s leaking some kind of cosmic dust?” Tim asked.  
“leaking cosmic dust would be a better alternative.” Dick muttered.  
Geez, this guy hadn’t eaten, drank, slept or done anything vaguely _“normal”_ for seven whole days and now he had to deal with this shit? How much longer was this conversation going to take?  
Jason shifted his position slightly behind the couch, an act of thinly veiled discomfort.  
Dick pursed his lips, then said “I didn’t go out as Night wing.” Slowly. Wally made a face of confusion. Dick sighed, then continued, “I really have to go back to the beginning here. Haley’s circus was set up by the court as a way of picking and choosing their next Talons with ease. That’s why it was easy for Bruce to adopt me as his ward, because Haley sabotaged everything to keep me out of the court’s hands.”  
“you’re saying the court…”  
“was going to force me into the role of a Talon. Yes.” Dick looked sufficiently awkward, “by the time I found out someone else had been chosen. I was off the hook, until he died. The court knew I was well-trained and don’t like being said no to, so they had me picked for the next Talon-again.”  
While Dick had been talking Jason had emptied his glass, gone back to the kitchen and filled two more. He handed the second one to Dick and sat next to Wally on the couch, who still looked concerned about what was in Jason’s drink. Dick didn’t seem as concerned.   
“that doesn’t explain the fact that someone dressed as Night wing went swinging ‘round Bludhaven who apparently wasn’t you.” Wally prompted.  
“I’m getting there.” Dick assured his ginger friend, “the court wanted to force me to be their Talon and, in the process, damage the league. The night wing you guys saw was a clone the court made. Which I’d hoped meant they’d leave me alone, but his DNA was messed up causing him to be difficult to control and… a complete and utter asshole.”   
“I second that statement,” Slade grunted.   
Tim groaned, “how many clones are there? Can’t people just… not?”  
“I’ve been asking the same question for years, kid.” Jason said before taking a large gulp from his drink. Slade hoped that they wouldn’t have to deal with super drunk Jason. that would not be a good time.   
“so, what does that have to do with that building?” Aqua lad asked.  
“it’s run by a member of the court and appears to be a base location of theirs in Bludhaven.” Slade explained.  
Jason sighed, “to speed this whole conversation up: Slade got shot by a Talon, Dick got captured, we rescued him but whilst he was captured his clone, who’s decided to call himself Replica because he’s just that edgy and creative, gave him a healing factor. Which comes with some bedazzling.”   
Dick looked into the distance like a character on the office looking at the camera.  
“dude,” Slade said, and his meaning was obvious.   
“what?” Jason shifted on the couch again, “I’m tired and I would like some sleep. I’m sure you two would as well. I mean, no offense Dick, but you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”  
“funny that, huh?” Dick said with very obvious sarcasm.  
Good to know that drunk Jason was twice as insensitive as sober Jason.   
Slade wondered if the heroes could read between the lines enough that they could figure out Dick had been tortured to the brink of death. And then pushed past that brink because ‘OH WELL’. His face wasn’t as bloodstained as his body, thankfully covered with a shirt now, and after the fight and the healing and the sweat from both, his face didn’t look as bad as before.   
So, Probably not.  
The hero’s thoughts seemed to catch up to the conversation, and Slade figured maybe the bat had managed to read between the lines because his expression changed rather drastically.   
Jason sipped from his drink a little less audibly.  
“so…” Wally’s fast everything tried to think of something to say, but found his mind wasn’t running as quick as his mouth.  
“so, the league should watch out for this clone and the court?” Aqualad saved the speedster.   
“I’d suggest it,” Dick said, sighing and leaning back against the couch, “the clone is very much a psychopath and would burn a city to the ground for the hell of it. the court will also use any possible opportunity to achieve their goals.”  
“good to know,” Tim said with a vague air of humour.   
Wally sighed and leaned back against the couch, “our lives are so damn fucked.”  
Dick seemed to realise something and launched himself at Wally in a bearhug.   
“ow! Dude, what?!” Wally exclaimed, hugging Dick back regardless.   
“you were dead for four years!” Dick explained, holding his friend at an arm’s length, “and you didn’t even let me react to you being alive?! Rude!”  
“sorry, I was too busy kicking Talon ass.” Wally laughed and enveloped his friend in a hug again.   
Jason sipped his drink again then said, “can we go to sleep now?”   
Slade almost sighed in relief when Aqualad said, “yes. I think we all need some rest. We’ll get you three to tell us more details later and we can think of our next step regarding the Court and their clone.”  
Fucking finally.

Dick was so fucking done.  
With everything.  
All of it. he was done with it all. everything. He had lost the ability to give a single fuck. All of them were gone, he had no inclination to care about a single thing for the rest of his life.  
Jason chugged the last of his drink, mock saluted and disappeared down his hallway, Batman looking on in slight annoyance all the while. And maybe disappointment, which made the blood in dick’s veins boil momentarily.  
Wally very indiscreetly yawned, muttered something about Artemis expecting him home before she woke up and then zipped out of the apartment. Dick was quite sure he heard metal bins being knocked over in the alley and a string of curses.  
Aqua lad sighed at Wally’s antics and gave Dick a hug on the way out the door.  
“will you be coming back as Night wing any time soon?” he asked.  
“not sure Kal, it might be best to stay away from the league during the mess of the court’s meddling.” Dick explained, sighing.  
“I understand,” Kaldur assured with a friendly pat on Dick’s shoulder, “the team will always welcome you when you’re ready.”  
Dick wondered if that would be true by the end of this.  
As it was, he felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of trying to take up the title of Night wing again. he was quite sure that, at this point, he’d be perfectly fine with becoming a recluse just so he never had to deal with people seeing the gold cracks on his face marking him forever as something the court deemed theirs.  
He and Slade made their way to the balcony so they could find a route to the nearest safe house that was likely not known by the court.   
“Dick,” Batman interjected before he could cross the threshold into the cold night air. Slade rolled his eyes (an act visible from space) and leaned against the rusted railing  
“Bruce,” Dick answered in his best attempt at mimicking the Bat’s tone.  
Bruce shifted awkwardly- which suggested he was going to say something linked to emotions, which he was most comfortable pretending he didn’t have when certain people (Mercenaries and the like) were present.  
“would you like to come back to the manor for the night?”  
Oh.  
Uhhhhh…  
“considering the court has a neon sign on my forehead labelled ‘shoot at me’ I’d say staying at the manor would be an unadvisable decision.” Dick said, unconsciously squaring his feet in a reflexive preparation for a fight. Why? He did not know. maybe he would be reflexively preparing himself for a fight for a while.   
Something tugged at the back of his mind, a dark splotch in his memory and vision.   
No.  
No no no no no.  
Not right now.  
He wondered if there was a time when he’d allow that dark splotch to gain his attention. Maybe he’d let it swallow him up and see if it affected anything. He’d heard not even a talon can come back from getting their heads chopped off. What would he do with that information? He’d have to see.  
He felt like he was some kind of hologram character that everyone thought was real and he just felt like a piece of light.  
If that was the case, every thought that just spasmed through his mind seemed to him like a static moment when the screen glitched and revealed what everything looked like without the light.   
The Bat didn’t react, so he guessed he wasn’t hologram.  
The Bat.  
When did Bruce become the Bat?  
It was probably the fact that he looked like a chunk of shadow given form and thought and did not seem like a person.  
That did not seem like the man that had become his father.  
And then the person he fought with every time they saw each other after… everything.  
He could pretend that there wasn’t a rift between him and Bruce when Tim and Barbara needed it. he could pretend.  
He could pretend.  
He could do that again.  
He could do that all the time, if that stopped anyone from seeing the dark splotch.  
Because he did not want anyone to see that.  
No.  
No no no no no.  
No one needed to see that.  
They did not need to see… him… as a mess.  
Not right now.  
“the manor is well protected.” The B- Bruce. Bruce. Bruce. Said.  
God, that miniature spiral had lasted a millisecond to them, and a millennium for him. This did not bode well if he was going to be hiding that mess from people.  
What were they talking about again?  
Uh…  
Right, if he’d go to the manor for the night.  
“This is the court we’re talking about.” Dick said, “no offense, but I’m quite sure that the manor’s defences won’t do much against these guys.”  
“and you think whatever safe house you’re going to will suffice?” Tim asked, a smile in his voice.   
Slade looked extremely offended.  
“at least both Slade and I have healing factors.” Dick sighed, “I’d prefer to go to a safe house and be found then be at the manor and for anyone there to get injured.”  
Bruce looked mildly hurt, something Dick could only just tell. Tim looked disappointed but understanding.  
“fair enough,” Tim hugged Dick, “call us if something goes wrong. You know, like a bunch of crazy murdering bird-themed psychopaths trying to kill you.”  
Dick chuckled, because he felt like that would be a natural reaction to that joke, but he really didn’t feel like chuckling.  
“will do, Timmy.” He would not.  
Nope.  
Nuh-uh.  
He would not involve them in a shitfest of a fight against the court.   
Bruce and Tim left the room, disappearing into the shadows on their way back to the Batcave.  
Dick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
“where do you want to go to?” Slade asked.  
Dick turned off the lights in Jason’s apartment, came back out to the balcony, locking the door behind him.  
“wherever.”  
Slade nodded.


	9. spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally laments his confusion, Kaldur worries over his friend's mental state and Dick visits a coffee shop.

Replica _hated_ the court.  
He _hated them._   
The single mentioning of the court made his vision flash red.   
Right now, his vision flashed red on, and on, and on, and on, as he was chased down an alley by a bunch of talons.   
Replica was quite happy with how their bodies looked when he was finished with them.  
He figured he had successfully sent his message to the court.  
He’d dumped the night wing suit and a few other things that he did not want in a place he knew Dickhead would find them.  
He’d bought a good pair of sunglasses, food, clothes and flown across the country.  
Then he flew across the continent.  
Then he flew across the world.  
Then, just to be safe, he flew across the continent.  
He’d lay low for a while, just to make sure the court couldn’t find him, then…  
Well.  
He’d watch the world burn.

Slade did not have another safehouse in Bludhaven, but he did have one in Metropolis and a car, so that became the new plan.  
He and Dick rode in the car in complete silence for several hours, until Slade noticed Dick struggling to keep his eyes open.  
“you should get some sleep,” he told his friend, “pretty sure there’s a blanket on the back seat.”  
“’m fine.” Dick said, an obvious lie.  
Of course, he didn’t want to go to sleep.  
 _Of course._  
If Slade was being honest, he wouldn’t want to either. Not with the threat of just waking up screaming in a few hours. Not with whatever memories awaited him in the limbo of sleep.  
But Dick needed to rest.  
“you’re no help to anyone exhausted. If we get attacked you need to be prepared.” Slade reasoned.  
Dick sighed, pushing the seat back and rolling on his side to face the door. He was out in seconds.   
Slade deflated against his seat, muscles sore from being tense for so long.  
When had this become normal to him?  
The last time he remembered feeling this close to someone was… when he still had a family.  
God.  
Fucking hell.  
If he remembered correctly, which he most certainly did, that kind of bond was what led to him missing one of his eyes. Although he doubted Dick would have any inclination take his second one.   
On the topic of eyes, his one was tired. He should really be sleeping as well. They couldn’t stop at the side of the road; the court could find them in seconds and they would not hear them coming.   
No. He’d stay up all night if it meant getting them to safety.  
He imagined his old friend Wintergreen laughing down at him from whatever sick afterlife he ended up in. ‘oh, good job Slade. You got attached to someone. Poetic justice after all the shit you’ve done, mister cold-killer.’  
His old friend was always an ass. Although, he guessed you had to be to want to befriend someone like Slade Wilson. Regardless, he’d still been a better person than Slade.   
His hour-long vehicle-based introspection was cut short as he heard Dick’s breathing hitch.  
Shit.  
He pulled over on the side of the road, several cars flying past him on the highway. Lucky, he didn’t care about the car, otherwise he’d be annoyed about driving it on rough terrain that probably killed the paint around the bottom.   
By the time he’d parked the car Dick’s face had started running with sweat.   
What did he do in this situation? The only nightmares he’d had to deal with were his own.   
Apparently, Dick didn’t want to give him long enough to decide on his course of action, because his eyes snapped open as he shot up from his seat.  
Slade averted his eyes and kept them trained forwards, knowing Dick he’d want to keep the confrontation till later. He started the car again and turned back towards the highway.  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dick get his bearings, wiping at his face and pulling the seat back up.  
“want to talk about it?” Slade asked.  
“no.”  
Slade opened his mouth to speak but, “no.” Dick looked him right in the eye.   
Slade sighed, eye forwards as he cut between two cars and very illegally joined the mass driving towards Metropolis.  
“you can, you know,” Slade said, not knowing how to breach the situation, “talk, I mean.”  
“noted,” Dick stated, getting comfortable in his seat again, “how far away are we from Metropolis?”  
“few more hours,” Slade sighed, shifting his hands on the wheel, his muscles were killing him.  
“maybe we should switch, I’ll drive for a bit and you can get some rest.” Dick offered.   
“you’ve had an hour of sleep, you’re not much better off than I am. Besides, you don’t know where this safe house is.” Slade said.  
“I know where Metropolis is, close enough.” Dick said.  
“oh, look at that we’re going over a bridge, can’t pull over here,” Slade smirked, resting one arm against the door.  
Dick rolled his eyes, “fine,” he sat for a while, then, “please tell me you have something to do in here?”  
“like what? Crayons and a colouring book?” Slade asked, stifling a yawn afterwards.  
Dick snorted, “you know what I mean.”  
“what, is your short attention span getting bored?”  
“Oh, my attention span is short?” Dick turned, looking like an offended meme, “this is coming from the guy that shot a hole in our wall for fun last week!”  
“I didn’t shoot a hole in the wall for _fun!_ ” Slade denied, “I told you, it was a… necessary situation.”  
“oh, really? Then what was it?” Dick asked.  
“a… cockroach.” Slade grumbled.  
Dick laughed, grabbing his side and tilting his head back against the rest, “a cockroach! Oh my god, seriously?! Are you afraid of cockroaches now?”  
“no!’ Slade denied, “no! I was fine with the cockroach!”  
“so why did you shoot it?” Dick said, still barely holding back laughter.  
“the bitch started flying.” Slade said, keeping his eyes on the road in an attempt at ignoring Dick’s laughter, which just got worse.  
He did have to admit, though, it was better than watching Dick battle his nightmares alone.

Wally was still reeling, even by the time he’d gotten home.  
He’d been home for a week and already things were going crazy. Could he not have at least a month to feel like his life had a chance at being normal before he was reminded that it was a shitstorm?   
Apparently not.   
he got home and immediately leaned his forehead against the wall nearest the door.   
He was so damn tired.  
The light switched on.  
Shit.  
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of,” Wally looked at his girlfriend’s disappointed stare as she gestured to all of him, “this.”  
Wally groaned, and shuffled to the lounge room where he collapsed on the couch. Artemis looking on in mild amusement and confusion at the same time.   
“wally,” she prompted, looking down at him.  
“everything is a mess!” Wally groaned, rubbing his hands down his face.   
“oh?” Artemis asked, leaning against the back of the chair, “do tell?”  
Wally sat up, “did you know Dick is friends with Slade Wilson?”  
“what?”  
“Dick Grayson, as in Night wing, as in the first Robin, is friends with known mercenary and psychopath Slade Wilson, also known as Death stroke.” Wally explained, trying to convince himself of the whole situation. He couldn’t believe it himself, and he saw it with his own eyes.  
“first off, how? Secondly, why? Thirdly, how do you know?”   
“they apparently met at a bar, fought and then Dick agreed to be trained by him? I don’t know how that works? And we know, because Bats, Tim, Kal and I all saw him run past a camera followed by Slade and went to back him up. Turns out they were all running from a bunch of Talons from the court of owls.” Wally trailed off.  
“what?!” Artemis stood up straight followed by her boyfriend, “the court is after Dick?”  
“yeah, I didn’t believe it either.”  
“why would the court be after Dick?”   
“because they want him to be one of their talons.” Wally explained, walking to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee. He didn’t care it’d stop him from sleeping, processing all that crazy stuff would keep him awake all night anyway.   
Artemis blinked.  
Then blinked again.  
What.  
she tried to start a sentence. Failed. Tried again. failed again. then followed Wally into the kitchen.  
“why does the court want _Richard Grayson_ of all people to be their talon?” she asked, sitting on the kitchen bench as Wally made coffee.  
Wally looked at her like he wanted to say something about her seat, but just decided to put on the coffee pot.  
“look, I don’t know if this is my place to be-,” he looked at Artemis’s face and decided, “you know what I think I’ll just tell you.” Artemis smiled with a look of ‘yeah that’s what I thought’.  
“you remember Haley’s Circus?” Wally asked.  
“the one Dick grew up in and took us on a mission to?” Artemis leaned the back of her head against the cupboard behind her.  
“The very same,” Wally added an ungodly amount of sugar to his mug, “turns out it’s a Court of Owls breeding ground thing.”  
“what?”  
“they use it to easily choose their next Talons. Haley sabotaged everything to get Dick out of the court’s hands when his parents died,” Wally sighed, “they got over themselves and chose a new talon, but whoever that was is dead now and the court have their sights set on Dick.”  
“so why did he make himself obvious by running around as Night wing?” Artemis asked.  
Wally leaned against the counter, “this is a very long story.”

Kaldur stared at the couch in his apartment with a great wish to collapse on it.  
Oh, the mess everything was in.  
The league needed to be made aware of the Court’s meddling. But he did not want to tell anyone, purely because he was quite sure it would put Dick in an uncomfortable position and that was the last thing he needed.   
One look at how Jason, Slade and Dick seemed to be visually communicating along with the fact that Dick had apparently been captured made it very clear that things were a lot worse than that.  
Hadn’t slept in a week? And why was _such a mystery._  
He’d gone in that warehouse to back his friend up and seen the gold veins on his cheeks and almost taken a punch to the face out of shock. He remembered when one of his friends had told him their parents had passed and his stomach had dropped. That feeling of understanding your friend was going through something horrible and you could only hope to help was one he was well-acquainted with. And he hated it.  
And when it all came down to the basics he realised he’d rather support his friend and protect him from _that_ situation than tell the league about the threat.  
Well that’s a first.  
He decided to screw social norms and collapse on his couch.   
But what if the league got attacked by the court and someone was badly injured because they weren’t prepared?  
But what if they could control this situation before it came it that?  
Uuuuggggghhhhh.  
Great, now he sounded like a teenager.  
Seems his angsty phase came later than expected.  
It was probably the trauma.  
Definitely the trauma.   
His communicator went off, and he forced himself to grab it.  
As soon as he saw the name Batman he shot up on the couch and answered.  
“yes?”  
“the league has been made aware of the threat and will be preparing themselves for an attack from the court. I would suggest training and preparing the team in case they are attacked.” Batman stated.  
Well.  
There goes that.   
“You told the league?” Kaldur asked, “it’s the middle of the night!”  
“Kaldur,” Batman’s voice had a slight sound of worry to it, although Kaldur was quite sure he was just imagining it, “it’s 7:30.”  
He checked his clock.  
Oh. 7:30 it was.  
Huh.  
“get some sleep, you can’t lead the team running solely on coffee and spite.” Batman said, then turned off the communicator.   
Sleep sounded like a good idea.  
Kaldur was too exhausted to get off the couch, though. Plus, it was kind of comfy where he was.  
He fell asleep on the couch.

When Slade and Dick finally got to the safe house in Metropolis they both fell asleep immediately without even bothering to check defences. They’d deal with that shit later.   
Dick was too tired for his brain to come up with nightmares, thank god, but he still felt like he was living a nightmare when he woke up, looked in the mirror and saw gold veins. Maybe he’d get some foundation and hide them? Or just always wear a mask? He’d think of something.   
His bones still ached and his skin felt like it had been on fire. Which was true for some parts of his body.   
He left his bedroom with great apprehension and made some coffee.  
“morning.” Slade mumbled, taking out an apple and waiting for the coffee pot to boil.   
“morning.”   
Slade sat at the breakfast bar eating his apple like an asshole and Dick leaned against the counter facing his one-eyed friend.   
“any plans?” Slade asked.  
“none at all, which is a nice change.”   
Dick stared at the floor, wondering how he could breach a subject on his mind. He decided it was best to just say it.  
“did you give me a healing factor?” Dick asked, keeping an eye on Slade’s expression so he could call out his bullshit.  
“… yes.”  
Dick didn’t even have to say anything; his thoughts were very clear to Slade through his expression.  
“one of these days someone was going to attack you because you know me, I was making precautions!” Slade defended.  
“you could have asked!” Dick exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.  
“you would have said no.” Slade dead panned.  
Dick groaned, Slade was far too stubborn.   
“that healing factor probably saved your life.” Slade muttered.  
Dick clenched his teeth. Slade was already starting to act like some kind of overbearing mother hen, if he made some sarcastic remark about death it’d just get worse.   
The coffee pot finally finished boiling and he decided to just hope that everything would be fine once he had enough caffeine in his system to give a shit. 

He had some coffee, and he still didn’t give a shit.   
He was actually starting to miss being the energetic teenager that had friends and enjoyed life. Everything was way too complicated for his liking, he missed when his only big problems were finding a way to pass English class, out-smarting the Riddler and avoiding the boy crazy girls at Gotham Academy who thought he was adorable or something.   
Being a hero complicated things, and he was beginning to question whether he enjoyed that complication.  
Although, he really couldn’t say that what he’d been doing the past four years was not being a hero.  
He’d still gone out on patrols every now and then, just not in the night wing suit. He’d still trained, just in a different more deadly style. He still put away the bad guys, just on the down low.   
He was now more often a shadow on the streets than night wing.   
His thoughts followed the trail they blazed while he did some training, and then decided to keep annoying him and get even louder as he showered, shaved and ate a basic lunch. He put himself on auto pilot. He couldn’t collapse or stop, he’d never get started again. he forced himself through the motions.   
He hadn’t been to Metropolis for a while and decided being alone with one’s thoughts was preferable in an atmosphere aside from musty safe houses and sweaty gym rooms.   
Dick zoned out of existence on the physical plane while he walked along the street. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, wrapped around the hilt of a dagger, because he couldn’t be too careful. The world had already proven his life was a shipwreck.   
a living fucking shipwreck.  
God he was so done with everything at this point.   
He recognised a café he remembered and decided maybe he’d come back for something to eat after he’d successfully walked through half of the city.   
He pulled his hood further over his face after making eye contact with a passer-by. He probably looked so shady right now.   
Did he care? Nope.  
Unless Superman swooped down and thought he was some villain who broke out of Arkham he did not give a shit.  
Metropolis had a much better aesthetic and vibe than Gotham. That was probably because the air was actually somewhat clean.   
He wondered what he’d be doing right now of he had a normal life.  
Would he be in college? Have friends he went out on Friday nights with? A partner to hold in times of need? A pet he played catch with at the park? Would he live in Gotham? Would he even still be in America?  
None of those things were questions he could think too much on without feeling the pit in his stomach ache.   
he jerked his head away from looking into the window of a bookstore when he saw two teens practically leaning on each other as they grinned and scanned the books for their story.   
Nope.  
He self-consciously brushed hair from his eyes and fixed his hood that was as far forward as it could get.  
Nope.  
The court was on his heels and he was contemplating alternate realities.  
He probably shouldn’t even be walking around in Metropolis with crazy bird-assassins out for his blood but if he stayed cooped up in a safe house till the coast was clear he’d die of boredom.

It was about 4:00 in the afternoon when he found himself nursing a hot chocolate in the corner of the coffee shop he remembered. He hadn’t looked at his phone all day and was wondering if that was a record, then remembered he hadn’t looked at it for the past seven days.   
He’d realised he was tired of his brain lazily spiralling through its own thoughts and decided to use this quiet moment to catch up on some things. he jotted down everything he knew about the court on a disposable paper napkin then followed with all the guesses and questions he had, trying to fill in the blanks.  
There were too many blanks in the information he had.   
It would seem that most of his problems came from having blanks between the information he knew.   
He didn’t know he was supposed to be a talon; was caught off guard by their sudden attacks.  
He didn’t know what path he wanted to take; he just stood awkwardly at the many paved crossways annoyed at his past decisions.   
What other blanks did he have?  
Enough to cause his life to lead into complete unsuriety with no idea if he’d be living to the age of 30.  
After the court he wrote a similar trail of thought on another napkin about what the hell would happen now. He was done with uncertainty. Done. No more. He would not sit idly by as his life was fucked over. He couldn’t stop it, but he could prepare himself for it. he could be on guard. He could-  
He could turn out exactly like Bruce.  
He could become someone else.  
He could become something else.  
And he couldn’t…  
He wouldn’t…  
But…  
His hand froze over the paper and he was thirteen again and he was short and innocent and _wild_ and still _growing. Becoming_. And he was still _there_ on the inside.  
And he heard the echo of laughter in his mind.  
And the echo of explosions.  
The echo of a memory that wasn’t a memory that wasn’t real that was not there but it was and it was hurting and it was not and it…  
And there was Wally.  
There was always wally.  
 _Always.  
He was always there. Why couldn’t he just always be there? _  
Because Wally had a life. Wally had figured himself out. _Wally wasn’t a fucking mess on the inside.  
"I don’t wanna be ‘the Batman’ anymore"_  
His fingers wouldn’t continue moving.  
 _"I didn’t want my best friend questioning my judgment.”  
"dude, that’s what a best friend’s for.”_  
Why couldn’t his fingers move?  
Why couldn’t he breathe?  
Why couldn’t he _fucking do something right for fucking once, god dammit.  
He couldn’t even control his own body anymore.  
He couldn’t even-  
He couldn’t even be anymore.  
What even was he.  
A mess.  
He was a mess.  
He wasn’t even himself.  
Robin.  
Robin.  
Robin.  
The little kid. The first protégé. The first. The golden boy. The ideal son. The one that wasn’t a fucking fuck up.  
Robin.  
Robin.  
Robin.  
And now what was he?  
A murderer. A fucking talon. A fucking mess who couldn’t even do anything right and he-_  
The pen snapped.  
His lungs were stinging.  
It was burning. Burning behind his eyes. Burning in his chest. Burning in his cheeks. Burning in his ears. Burning in his hands. Burning in his skin. Burning in his soul.  
Burning. Burning. Burning.  
He breathed. He tried to breathe.  
He tried to breathe in, past the lump in his throat.  
He tried to breathe out.  
He shoved his hand in his pocket, the familiar hilt of his knife brushing against his fingers. Something real. Something right. Something familiar.   
He breathed in.  
He held it tight.  
He breathed out.  
He was fine.  
,em>Fine.  
He breathed in.  
He relaxed his shoulders.  
He breathed out.  
He sat.  
He breathed in.  
He stopped.  
He breathed out.  
He stopped.  
He breathed in.  
He stopped.  
He breathed out.  
And then he started. And it was fine. And the sound trickled back into his brain, and the black at the edges faded and it cleared and he was back.  
 _He was fine.  
He’d be fine._  
He relaxed his hand around the hilt, wiping up the ink that spilled on the table with his court of owls information napkin and ripping it to pieces. He’d shove it in the bin on the way out.   
He sighed, hand shaking as he picked up the fragments of the pen and put them on top of the ripped ink covered napkin.   
He breathed in.  
And he breathed out.  
and he shoved it all into a box at the edge of his mind. He got all the shit he could, and he shoved it away. And he put it on a shelf as far away as possible and he left it there and it would stay there until it was necessary.   
_He was not Bruce.  
He was fine.  
He was fine.  
He was working past it.   
Because he was fine.  
Fine fine fine fine fine finefinefinefine._  
The word echoed around his mind and he _needed to think of something else now._  
he breathed out.  
Okay.  
Okay.  
Okay, he could do this.  
He was finished, could he get back to productivity now?  
That’s how it worked right?  
Yeah?  
That’s what normal people did right?  
They moved on.  
He could move on.  
He could do that.  
He would do that.  
He’d be fine.  
He was fine.  
He breathed in.  
He was fine.  
There was a flash of dark over his eyes like a taint, like a reminder. An echo of a scream and a memory, his back ached.   
No.  
 _No._  
He shoved it all into the box and he _pushed it further away_ and breathed in and left the corner of his mind.  
Okay.  
He drained the last of his drink and tossed his rubbish in the bin by the bathrooms, which were closer than the door, and made for the exit.  
The hair on his arms stood on edge the second he saw them walk in.  
They looked like normal teens, hoodies and jeans and swagger and the jokes about wanting to die.  
Hhahahaha _same._  
He shoved his hand into his pockets, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the blade as he walked past the five teens.  
They were in the middle of the store when they all pulled their guns and at least ten of the store bystanders did the same.  
Dick tensed as they shouted whatever orders they wanted to, drifting into the background and taking count of every exit, every innocent, every variable.   
Was he still the hero? Was he still the person who was supposed to diffuse this situation? If he just jumped out the window and left this scene would he feel at all guilty.  
Answer?  
He…  
Wasn’t sure.  
God, what would thirteen-year-old him think of this?  
What caught his attention again was when the café staff pulled their own weapons.  
There were still plenty of bystanders who had no idea what was going on; hostages probably, for when the police (and possibly Superman) came along.   
But the staff were fighting back, weapons of their own brandished, and they seemed completely unsurprised by the sudden attack.   
Finally, a shot managed to catch his attention, after ages of it fading into the background, when it was followed by a spray of blood and a newly dead body.  
It probably wasn’t the first.  
But it was the one that managed to remind Dick that _yes you, the highly trained asshole sitting idly by, you are the one who is supposed to be helping people in this situation._  
By the time he pulled the dagger in his pocket from its scabbard there was a shift in the air and a blur of blue in the corner of his eye and _oh look_ its _superman, here to save the day._  
 _Of course._  
The blade was already out, and he’d already decided to act.  
He fought alongside Superman for the first time in at least four years.  
He wondered if superman could even tell it was him.  
He couldn't let himself think of it. He decided quickly. Fight now, angst later.


	10. alarming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superman hasn't seen Dick Grayson in four years, this isn't exactly the reunion he'd expected.

Superman’s only regret was not getting to the café sooner.  
Metropolis was not the city of mobs and mob wars, that was Gotham’s main attraction, but it seemed things were changing.  
In the past few weeks at least three clearly different mobs had risen in Metropolis, rushing to claim as much of the city’s streets as possible, the police were taken by surprise so badly that it took a while to have any kind of decent defence started against the out of control members who were just gaining in numbers. And Clark was taken by surprise and wasn’t able to intervene very quickly. It didn’t help that he’d been distracted by Oliver and Barry’s difficulties with mobs in their cities.   
Clark had gotten the league’s help on how to best keep on top of this, but after that he took it into his own hands. He could handle this on his own, and if things were getting out of hand he could easily call Diana or Oliver for help.  
He’d found hints to a café being owned by one of the family’s in one of the mobs and decided to stake it out as a civilian later, but then he’d heard from miles away as guns were drawn and chaos erupted. He got there and what do you know, it was the same café.  
Must be a powerful family in the mob then.   
He got there too late to save everyone, but he hoped no one else would have their family’s planning their funerals.  
He took one man’s gun, knocking him and someone nearby with it, when he noticed the other person fighting against the armed fighters. He seemed to be cutting them down with ease, no troubles whatsoever, better yet he hadn’t killed anyone evident by the faint heartbeats. Maybe he’d have to ask them a few questions after this.  
He didn’t look long enough to notice the gold veins and eyes, the very clearly familiar features of someone who used to be family.  
The sirens of the police and ambulances were audible when every gang member had been knocked out. Under a minute and they were all restrained.  
And then he turned and saw the man who’d been fighting with him taking stock of the situation, the hood of his jumper having fallen off.  
He was quite sure he stopped breathing when the man turned and he recognised who it was.  
When Batman had told them that the court was on Dick’s tail and that somehow Slade Wilson and Jason Todd were involved and that everything in Gotham and Bludhaven was basically one big shitstorm Clark was sure he’d processed it all and that he understood the situation.  
When he saw Dick’s once-blue turned-gold eyes he realised just how little he’d processed things.  
Oh shit.  
Oh _shit._  
That was _Richard Grayson._  
When had he stopped being the innocent thirteen-year-old? when had he stopped being his surrogate nephew?   
Because right now when he looked at the man in front of him all he could get from him was the very clear vibe that he _did not want to be there at all_ and was very uncomfortable with talking about _anything_ with someone he used to idolise. With someone he probably wished would forever remember him as someone who wasn’t ‘wanted number 1’ of The Court of Owls, not to be killed but to be turned into one of their talons.  
Oh god, what had happened to him?  
The worst things happened to the best people, yes, and they forever stopped those people from ever being the same again.  
Had Dick spoken to Tim? Barbara? Wally? Anyone on the team?  
What even was the situation? Because all Bruce said was the court was probably going to be a problem, Dick was alive and running from the birds, Jason was alive and involved somehow, also Death Stroke was apparently friends with Dick, something Clark found so mind boggling he’d taken about three hours to fall asleep.   
Ho boy, he had questions.  
There was a fearful anxiety in Dick’s eyes that made Clark realise he had seconds before Dick bolted from this whole confrontation.  
He took one step towards the kid- who was not a kid anymore, geez he was like 22 now- and Dick was immediately flipping his hood over his head and retreating from the scene.  
Oh no.  
If Clark remembered anything about Dick it was that the guy needed someone familiar and trustworthy in difficult times to help him feel supported and at all better. Dick may feel anxious to talk to someone like Clark, but it would only be beneficial.  
Clark had no guilt whatsoever when he used his superspeed- something he wished could rival Barry, but oh well- to grab Dick by the elbow and speed off to somewhere he knew would be a safe place to talk.

Dick looked at Superman for two seconds tops before he attempted to run.  
Looking back on the decision, he was wondering why he decided to run like he was a criminal. He had no reason to other than the very sudden urge to get out of the whole situation before it escalated, before he ended up telling Clark everything- because he would. Clark was like an uncle to him, and if he said the right thing Dick was quite sure he’d dissolve into a mess.   
But the fates had not aligned for him, because before he could register anything he was suddenly in the air, his stomach dropping with the ground, Superman with a firm grip on his elbow, and then on the roof of a nearby building.   
Whatever heightened senses the court’s stupid goldy-serum gave him immediately told him that there wasn’t anyone else on the roof except Clark, a quick check of the area also said that there weren’t any obvious cameras.   
Oh great, Dick could already see where this was going.   
“before you run, I’m not planning on dumping you on the watchtowers doorstep or something crazy.” Clark quickly stated, drawing Dick’s attention back to the blue and red themed hero, “I just want to talk.”  
Shit, when had Dick grown enough to only be about half an inch shorter than Clark? Was he taller than Jason? he hadn’t checked. 

“did the bat fill you in?” Dick’s voice was calm, and he didn’t break eye contact with Clark- false confidence. A façade. A mask, one of the very few theoretical ones he’d ever worn as opposed to the real one.  
“only on the Jason’s alive, Slade’s less of an ass, the Court is a problem and you’re still under the radar stuff,” Clark explained, “the rest of the league was there, too. They send their condolences for the death of your easily accessed secret identity.”  
Dick snorted, “I’ll have to find some heavy foundation and contacts, got any suggestions?”  
Acting. All of it acting. He wondered if he did it long enough it would stop being acting and he’d just be normal again. a lie is only a lie for as long as you believe it isn’t.  
“no,” Clark’s smile faded slightly, remembering what this conversation was supposed to be about, “you don’t have to, but I’d suggest talking to the team- they’ve missed you.”  
“I’m staying away from any major hero bases, I’d hate for the court to find a way to track me and wind up on the Batcave’s doorstep or something.”   
“Dick,” Clark started but Dick was already interrupting.  
“I’d prefer for the shitstorm the court is starting to stay in Bludhaven and Gotham.”   
“I know, I get it. but you should really talk to the team or the rest of your crazy bat family- how many of you lot are there now?” _lighten the conversation_ , Clark thought. _Make him comfortable, not scared. He’s a deer in headlights right now, just be patient._  
“not even I know, Clark.” Dick sighed, like the thought of not being up-to-date with his own family was one of the worst things on his mind.  
And now how did he get this conversation to shift…  
By ripping off the Band-Aid.  
“Dick, what happened?” at the raised eyebrow he added, “I can’t distract myself from the very clear difference in your appearance.”  
If it weren’t for how long he’d known Dick, Bruce, the whole bat clan, he would not be able to pick up on the tells. The things that were clear flags for an immediate shift in their mood.  
A deer in headlights indeed.  
Dick’s tells were from years of being the bright, innocent kid, even when he didn’t want to be. The golden child, the poster boy. The charity case. A slight clench in the jaw, but just enough that he could still smile. Hands in pockets to hide when they turn into fists, thumbs out to feign confidence. Eyes either forcing themselves to make contact or looking anywhere else, with no in between. Feet inching in another direction to get the hell out.   
“it’s a long story.” Dick said, trying to force his muscles to ease, to look less like he was planning to punch Clark in the face and run while he was shocked. Because he could punch him now, the shattered bones would be healed in seconds.   
“tell me.”   
A push. Too much? Clark couldn’t tell. Was he overstepping? Probably.  
But he couldn’t stand by, not a chance. He’d watched Bruce run himself into the ground and then some, kept his distance because he didn’t want to risk it.  
Not with Dick. Not when the guy was forcing himself to cut all ties with heroes- his friends and family that understood what he was going through better than others. Not when he’d watched the mental effects- experienced them himself before- of not talking about the dark parts.   
Dick’s jaw clenched visibly, “I should be getting home.”  
“Dick.”  
“I’m staying with Slade, normally he wouldn’t give two shits but if I disappear for six hours he’s gonna freak with this court bullshit going on.” He was already walking towards the edge of the roof.  
“Dick,”  
“I still have my communicator on me if the league needs help at any point-“  
 _“Dick.”_  
He stopped and Clark turned him away from the edge by the shoulder, “I take it you haven’t talked about it yet.”  
Dick’s eyes were looking absolutely anywhere but Clark’s, taking a deliberate step back he muttered “It’s nothing, I just had a run in with the court.”  
“bullshit.”  
“I’m serious.”  
“what did they do?”   
He was so far past the line now, thrown all the way into the deep end, but he couldn’t get himself to care because _this was Richard Grayson_ in front of him. His _nephew_ in all but blood.   
“I don’t-“  
“dick,” and finally he was looking him in the eye, bright gold and terrified, “tell me.”  
There were the uncomfortable tells and then there were the others. The ones that Clark saw when people talked to Dinah. The slump of the shoulders, the sigh, the immediate shift in appearance that came with the acceptance that ‘ _oh fuck, I’ve got a problem here. And it’s up to me to fix it, because it’s in my head.’_  
“I- “Dick ran his hand down his face, sighing as he tried to get his shit together. Tried to wear the mask.  
Clark took a page out of Bruce’s books and tried to figure it out himself.  
“It’s a long story,” Dick settled for, fidgeting with the lining of his pockets, back to looking at the ground.  
And a voice seemed to whisper in the back of Clark’s mind _look, listen, learn.  
See._  
He remembered when Oliver had gone undercover in one of the mobs in Star City. communications with the league were fine, everything was running smoothly, they were about to take down the whole operation…  
And then things on Oliver’s side went quiet.  
Four days later they managed to get enough information to break apart the mob from the outside and found Oliver cooped up in a cell with no light, stale air and a hole in the door big enough for only a plate.  
Steel, steel, steel, steel.  
All of it black.  
To this day Clark had never seen Oliver in an unlit room. Had never seen him in the darkened streets unless he could see the stars, could breathe cool air.   
To this day he couldn’t forget the look on Oliver’s face when he’d woken up in the watchtower infirmary.   
To this day he could remember how Oliver looked when he spoke to anyone he was close to- Dinah, Roy, Himself.  
And on this day, he saw the mirror of that look on Dick’s face.  
“Slade got sniped by one of the court’s lackies,” Dick explained, and the pieces started fitting together.   
Slade wasn’t there for back-up.  
Jason was "involved somehow”.  
The court wanted Dick to be their talon, had gone so far as to give him their healing factor.  
“we, uh,” Dick cleared his throat, “we were caught off guard and- “  
“how long?” Clark asked, not allowing Dick to spin a lie. To think his way out of the truth. “how long were you captured?”  
And Dick was frozen. Stuck in one second to the next, looping thoughts of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, _oh god, oh god, oh god’_  
An endless loop of _‘help me, get me out, help me get out now, I need to leave, I need to get out, help me, I want to leave, I want to get out, help me.’_  
Clark could see everything running itself at miles per hour in Dick’s head as he thought of every lie, every story, every way he could _leave._  
And then freeze, stop, screech to a halt as he realised there was no lie he could spin.   
“a week.” Forced words. Forced past a lump in his throat, an explosion in his head screaming _‘stop, no, keep it down, keep it a secret, keep it quiet, keep it down,’  
‘make them think you’re okay. Make them believe. It’s fine, you’re fine. This is ridiculous, STOP FREEZING DAMMIT YOU’RE FINE, YOU’RE OVERREACTING.’ _  
Forced above the noise and raucous of wanting to move past it, wanting to already have moved past it, wanting to skip right past all the bad parts, the healing, and just be fine again.  
“a week,” Clark tried to process that.  
But every time he tried he pictured that dark room they found Oliver in, pictured Dick in a room similar. Pictured him strung up by the wrists, screaming. Pictured someone changing his eyes, giving him a healing factor, forcing the person in the mirror to be unrecognisable, someone he would relate to pain and death and screaming.   
Oh god, what had happened to him? How had Clark not known?  
Holy shit.  
“Slade got Jason’s help in, uh,” Dick swallowed, “getting me out.” He ran his hands through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck, “I… I didn’t- “  
Clark was already hugging him.   
He figured maybe he should have let this conversation be had with Bruce, but if Clark knew batman at all then he knew he wouldn’t push. He’d support Dick, would do everything Clark just had, but he wouldn’t actually attempt to get Dick to open up. He’d expect Dick would want to bring the topic up himself without being pushed, and that would never happen.  
No, he didn’t regret this conversation at all.  
Clark waited for Dick to let go, because he didn’t know just how much Dick needed the physical contact. He swore by the philosophy that hugs helped more than people genuinely expected.  
Eventually they did break apart.  
“I should probably get home,” Dick said, rubbing the back of his head.  
Clark nodded, “you can come ‘round and visit Lois and I anytime, you know. she actually kind of misses you.”  
“that’s because I used to steal some of Alfred’s cookies and bring them over.” Dick snickered.  
“true, true,” Clark admitted, “although, that man’s cookies could bring the world to its knees.”  
Dick nodded, a hint of a smile.  
“and the team would probably like to talk to you, too.” Clark offered.  
“yeah, I know,” Dick sighed, “I just…”  
“don’t know what to say?”  
“yeah, that.”  
“you could start with hello, and then I’m quite sure the conversation would run itself from there.” Clark smiled.  
Dick nodded, “I’ll think about it,” he sighed, “but until then, I’ll see you around supes.”   
He mock saluted, and then jumped backwards off the roof, the TWANG of a grapple hook ricocheting around the air.  
Clark hoped that Dick would at least take this as incentive to try and talk about more of it with someone. 

The owl’s breathing was heavy, muffled against the white ceramic mask on their face. The grandmaster’s hall was dark at the corners, a light shining down on the leader of the court.   
“sir?”  
He held his breath, tense as he knelt at the foot of the dais. The grandmaster had two words.  
“kill them.”


	11. Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all moves and counter moves, and the court has made a statement.  
> Suddenly, everyone needs Dick's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly shorter than I'd like it, but if I put much more in it would be too long because of the "flow of the story" or whatever.  
> I hope you guys are enjoying this so far!

Dick didn’t get back to Slade’s safehouse till late afternoon.  
He wasn’t hungry- not enough to put the energy into making food- so instead had a shower and ruminated on his conversation with Clark in the living room.  
He looked up when Slade walked in and sat on the chair across from him, mimicking his pose almost exactly- sitting near the edge of the chair, elbows on knees, hunched.  
The only difference was that Slade was staring pointedly at Dick, whereas Dick was trying to keep his eyes trained on the ground between his feet.  
“do you want to talk?”  
“no.”  
“pity, cause I do.”  
Dick grit his teeth, his fingers clenched, “Slade, I’m not in the mood for whatever bullshit you have to say.”  
Slade was looking at him, he could feel the intensity of the stare, and Dick looked up and stared back. like two dogs challenging each other, first to back down loses.  
“I know you Dick Grayson, and that means I know you can't move past things without help from the people around you. You are an emotive person, you’re like a… social battery to the people around you. But that backfires with the fact that you also need to be recharged eventually.” Slade’s gaze almost slipped from Dick’s eyes to the gold veins across his face, “in light of recent events you need quite the recharge.”  
“why the sudden compassion on the subject?” Dick said, not having the same difficulty Slade was having at all, he could keep his eyes trained on Slade’s one for all he needed to if it meant proving that the best way for him to ‘recharge’ was to be left alone.  
Slade’s expression grew strained, maybe it was the first time Dick had seen it so. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was just annoyed. But Dick had seen him annoyed, this was not it. no, Slade was, for once, feeling emotional in a dramatic sense, and not for himself.  
“I’ve wanted to talk since we hauled you out of the court’s hands but I thought it best to give you space. But I’ve realised I can’t. I can’t stand idly by while you run yourself into the ground.  
“its been a day.”  
“call me a fortune teller then.”  
“what do you want from me exactly? A full report on what happened? An emotional heart-to-heart on all my experiences? What is it you’re looking for?!” Dick’s voice rose with annoyance. A hint of anger. Maybe something else to.  
“an admission.” And yet Slade was _so fucking calm._  
“of what?!”  
“that you’re not okay.”  
Dick blinked and sat back slightly, forgetting about his and Slade’s unspoken eye-contact, “what?”  
“say to my face that you understand that you are not okay and need some form of help- I don’t know what- and that you cannot be expected to throw yourself back into the line of duty. And- most importantly- that all of that is normal and not something to be ashamed of.”  
Dick’s head cocked slightly in confusion, eyes squinted, “why?”  
“because you don’t seem to have come to terms with that fact. First step is doing so.”  
Dick’s eyebrows knotted- since when was Slade some kind of emotional guru? What did he know about all this bullshit?  
“I don’t need to hear it now. In fact, I don’t expect to. But think about it.” Slade patted him on the shoulder, a hint of a smile warmed his face as he pointedly looked into Dick’s eyes again, although this time differently. This was no challenge. Dick didn’t know how to decipher it, but something about how Slade’s demeanour didn’t change when he looked into gold eyes that weren’t Dick’s gave some form of comfort. At least some people could look past that coloured branding in his irises and on his skin.  
Then Slade stood and left the living room, headed for his room.  
Dick sat momentarily, eyes trained on the spot Slade had disappeared from.  
What in the name of any heavenly being was he supposed to do with that? 

-

Zatanna had never fought these kinds of assassins before.  
They healed faster than her. Wielded weapons with such precision and ability that she’d had to resort to mainly the defence. Every trick she had was quickly outwitted by them.  
So, she ran.  
She was almost to the zeta tube, had just stepped into the phone booth, didn’t have time to close the door.  
**Zatanna B08**  
Milliseconds too late.

Beast Boy had gotten barely any sleep.  
For some unknown reason Canary had been working them twice as hard twice as often during training, splitting them up into teams to give everyone experience in larger battles.  
He was tired, Bart was tired, Jaime was tired, they were all ready to pass out.  
He was about to do just that in the latest rendition of a 1v1 sparring match when the zeta beams hummed to life and announced:  
**Zatanna B08**  
Recently they’d set up their training mat in the huge landing pad-esque area right outside the Zeta beams, although still allowing plenty of room for people to walk around. Canary explained it as something to do with size and the ability to immediately respond if something happened, because they were already prepared for a fight, yada-yada.  
This meant, however, that everyone had a very clear view as Zatanna appeared in the Zeta beam, the white light coalescing…  
And then she slumped to the ground face first, a maroon stain spreading along the stairs and drip-drip-dripping with the sound of his heart rate as realisation hit him in the gut.  
They all rushed over, Canary forcing them to step back and give her space as she rolled Zatanna over.  
There was a shining blade ten inches long, buried half way to the black hilt in the side of her neck arching downwards towards her chest.  
Beast Boy could see the tears threatening to spill over in Canary’s eyes as she made the immediate diagnosis.  
There was no way she was breathing.  
There was a ring in Beast Boy’s ears as he came to the same understanding as everyone else.  
_shit._

The blade hung suspended in the air above the justice league’s meeting table, rotating so everyone could imprint the image into the forefront of their minds.  
It was unnecessary to Kaldur, he could already see it behind his eye lids like a brand. Along with Zatanna’s body now lying in the morgue the watchtower had, purely for emergencies that they hoped would never happen.  
They’d happened.  
One look at the pommel and every member knew the court of owl’s was at fault. Kaldur saw that, too. The black owl symbol embossed into the leather like a coat of arms.  
Like they were proud to be murderers.  
The league knew they’d have to involve some of the team in this meeting, so sitting to Kaldur’s right was Conner, Megan next to him.  
The absence of Wally, Artemis and Dick was like a cold ghost rippling to his left.  
Empty space where friends should sit.  
“I believe we should consider this a sign of aggression at the highest form,” Wonder Woman interjected into both Kaldur’s thoughts and the argument between Green Arrow and Captain Marvel, “the court intends to take down the league to remove all possible enemies.’  
“agreed,” Batman said, “the court fancy themselves as shadowed rulers of Gotham, I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to branch out. Under their leadership all the cities of America would be affected drastically. We cannot allow it to happen. If we call this a once off or target to Zatanna we immediately brush aside the main possibility.”  
“and what is that?” Captain Marvel asked, still obviously of the opinion that the court was a myth and some mob was parading around their image to scare people.  
“they’re attempting to declare an outright battle.” Batman explained.  
“call it what it is,” Oliver drawled, an eye roll oncoming, “war.”  
Wonder Woman snorted at Oliver’s dramatics.  
“I’m serious,” he sat forward in his chair, looking directly at the Amazonian warrior, “they’re attempting to declare war. They’re sending a message to us in an attempt to cause fear. They’ll attack us at the next opportunity.”  
“he’s right,” Clark seconded, “although the wording is dramatic.”  
Dinah nodded, “does anyone have a good guess as to how well armed the court is? How many men they have?”  
Batman’s jaw clenched, physically holding information back.  
“I don’t," Kaldur interrupted. "but I know someone who may.”  
God, he hoped this wouldn’t end with him in that morgue. 

Dick had found that in the past two weeks the only times that scared him were the quiet ones.  
_Two weeks_ , and still nothing from the court.  
No attacks, no shadows behind buildings, no creepy SUVs, nothing.  
_Silence._  
He guessed that was good, it meant that he and Slade had covered their tracks well. Heck, it meant that Jason had covered his tracks well the three times he’d visited.  
But two weeks and there was _nothing._  
And it wasn't like he wasn't looking.  
Slade had given him all the space in the world, hadn’t brought anything up, hadn’t tried to breach the subject since the day after his rescue. Dick knew it was because the guy didn’t know how else to talk about it yet. Frankly Dick didn’t know how either.  
But one thing was for sure, he’d not be happy right now.  
Dick had suited up. Not as night wing but as… something.  
Black Kevlar armouring, weapons anywhere he could hide them, a mask, customised combat boots, a pair of leggings and a black hoodie and he felt like… himself, whoever that was.  
And what was he doing?  
What he did best.  
Vanishing.  
Hacking.  
Disappearing.  
Reconnaissance.  
He’d gone back to that business where the court had hidden themselves, although it had taken every inch of his training and resolve not to bolt from the place, and gotten every piece of information he could.  
By the end of the two weeks he knew of four different court hideouts, had an approximate number of talons, had effectively familiarized himself with the court’s computer systems and could confidently say that Replica had scurried off to some hole on the other side of the world.  
All at night, all after he’d wake in a cold sweat or failed to sleep at all.  
All without Slade knowing.  
He felt like a shadow as he slipped from building to building, flipped through the air and flew on the breeze as he let his mind wonder with the wind to and from his adventures.  
It was good to do, made going in random directions to throw off possible followers a lot easier.  
His mind had quieted, slipped away into its bed for the night when he noticed the buzz coming from his holo-watch.  
The thing was so similar to the one he’d had during his time as Robin that it was easy to hook up to his old communicator’s signal, which was why he wasn’t surprised when it turned out Aqualad was attempting to contact him.  
He tapped the screen and watched the radio waves dip and weave on the screen as he heard, “Aqualad to Nightwing, are you there?”  
“I hear you, what’s wrong?” because there had to be something wrong for Kaldur to be calling him with his communicator, especially this late at night.  
“Zatanna was attacked by a Talon from the court last night,” whatever sweat on Dick’s skin froze as Kaldur took a deep breath, “she didn’t make it.”  
The box at the edge of his mind threatened to spill open.  
“the league suspects this is their attempt at calling for battle, provoking us to make the first move. They want to know as much as they can before they set any plans in stone, though, and need someone with some intel on the court.”  
Oh.  
“I take it you haven’t been sitting around doing nothing the past two weeks.” Kaldur said, moving the conversation away from the dark spot before he lost Dick to grief, “how much can you tell the league about the court?”  
“plenty.” Dick managed to say, the lump in his throat got tighter, the sob grew closer.  
Quiet on Kaldur’s line, then “would you prefer to come to the watchtower or call?”  
Dick’s fist clenched, he knew it was no accident the court had targeted Zatanna. No coincidence. They had to have somehow known they were close.  
close enough to have dated the majority of Dick’s tenth grade.  
_Shit._  
“I’ll come to the watchtower,” Dick said, “we can decide how we get the court to fuck off in person.”  
There was a beep from his holo-watch.  
“I’ll call you back Kal, someone else has a problem.”


	12. emotional detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out the person in need of Dick's help was Wally, who's very annoyed he had to pull Dick into a new clusterfuck.   
> And once again, Dick has to take the time out of his healing process to fix everyone else's problems. this definitely won't have any negative effects.

Iris had organised a catch-up dinner with Jay and Joan, and Wally and Artemis. After the league meeting, Barry sped home to it, no need to cancel it when plans about the court hadn’t even been put in place.  
He knew about as much as the rest of the league on that issue.  
He ticked off the list as he ran home  
• The court of owls was real  
• Dick was alive and had had a run in with the court somewhere, hence the league even knowing about the court.  
• Death stroke was the reason Dick hadn’t died in that run in with the court (uh, what?)  
• The court was trying to pull some world domination bullshit.  
Barry could tell a lot of information was being held back, mainly because Batman was the one that gave them the info and he had a pretty much constant secret keeper vibe to him. Also, because Wally already knew Dick was alive and had stopped looking for him, and Aqualad somehow knew someone with in depth information on the court.   
He was mentally cycling through the possibilities when he rushed into a hidden spot to change out of the Flash uniform. He hesitated on the doorstep to his house, thoughts slowing as he noticed how quiet it was. Surely everyone was there by know and conversation would be up and running?   
He walked through the front door, eyes scanning as much of the house as he could from that spot.   
“Iris?” he called.  
A murmur from the kitchen.  
Was Iris planning some kind of surprise?  
“Iris?” he tried again.   
“we’re in the kitchen.” Came Wally’s voice.  
Adrenaline shot through Barry’s body. There was something wrong, Iris would have answered.  
Keeping his eyes trained on any possible hiding place, he halted in the hallway outside the dining room which opened into the kitchen.   
“who’s there?” Barry asked, “what’s wrong?”  
“do not keep us waiting Mr. Allen, we’re getting bored.”  
He ran straight in and stopped dead.  
Wally and Artemis sat back to back, tied to their chairs, Jay and Joan to the left in the same situation. Iris was standing against the island counter, a blade against her throat.   
Two talons stood to the sides of the room, as well as one next to Iris against the counter, and another lounged in a chair at the kitchen table, leaning on the back legs like she owned the place. all but the one sitting had full black face masks with the typical court of owl’s golden embellishments, the sitting one had just a half-mask with a long copper-coloured beak thing and glass goggles. they were all bristling with weapons, in fact the sitting one had stabbed their dagger into the wooden table in a clear attempt at bad-assery.  
Oh, and all of them had gold veins that were creeping Barry the fuck out.  
“sit,” the talon at the table said, “Let’s talk.”   
“what do you want?”   
“ _sit_ ,” she ordered.   
The blade against Iris’s throat seemed to gleam.  
He sat, glaring straight at the talon.   
“lovely to see you finally got here, Flash.” She drawled.   
“what do you want?” Barry asked, eyes straying to Iris.  
“well,” she leaned forwards in her seat, the front legs clicking back onto the floor, “your head on a stick would be appreciated.”  
“excuse me?”   
“we were sent to kill you,” she smirked, head tilting in an inhumane way, “but there’s a lot more to it. see, the league still has as of yet to take any action after our recent movements.”  
“you killed one of our members,” Barry glared straight at her.  
“yes, and kidnapped one of you, hacked into the league and secured the identities of several of you-“  
“what?” Barry cut in, trying to remember when any of this had happened.   
“oh, haven’t you heard?” she rested her head on her hand, practically orange hair shifting. Wally’s head whipped to Barry, he mouthed the word ‘WHAT’ with enough stress that it was obvious he meant to shout it.   
“uh oh, looks like the information train in the league isn’t doing well.”   
Barry looked to Iris, panic in his eyes. He tried to do one of those romance-book things where the characters talk to each other with their eyes or whatever. He tried to say to Iris ‘WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK IS GOING ON? WHAT SHOULD I DO, IRIS HELP?’  
Either it wasn’t working or Iris was saying something along the lines of ‘where did you get your pants because they’re god awful and you need to return them.’   
“what is your point?”   
“oh, I’m just catching you up on the apparent gap in your information before we kill you.” 

Wally was shit-terrified.   
There were four Talons in this room, and he was very sure all of them were in the top ten most dangerous people he’d ever met. Iris had a literal blade to her throat. These talons seemed different to the ones he’d fought before in the warehouse. He wondered if they’d all been freshly woken up, still a little rusty. This lot acted a lot more fleshed out.  
Or thawed out. because weren’t the talons frozen?  
 _This was the whole reason he left the hero gig._  
There was no way they could make it out of this alive without back-up, but unfortunately Barry wasn’t able to bring any. And he’d walked right in.   
God dammit man.   
So, he’d resorted to what he hadn’t wanted to do. He’d strained his fingers towards his watch, which held his communicator and SOS beacon, and called Dick.   
He did not want to bring Dick in on any fighting after the shit he went through two weeks ago.  
But desperate times call for desperate measures.   
So now he just had to hope and wait.  
God dammit Dick, get here quick.

Barry was so damn terrified right now.   
There was no back-up, no plan, no weapons worth a damn.  
And everything to lose.   
“so, we are going to use this as a lovely statement to the league. Don’t worry about the secret identities, it’s boring to attack people outside of superhero life, we’re making an exception for you. Plus, I’m pretty sure you won’t be worrying about much once you’re dead.”  
“and, I’m guessing you want me to record or do something to get the league’s attention before you decapitate me?” a tremor down his spine, a tremble in his bones.  
 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._  
“that would be nice, yes.” She grinned.  
“I’d put a pin in that,” Wally spoke up.  
“excuse me?” she asked.   
“I’m just saying, getting a film of Barry would take a decent amount of time, he’s quite the rambler, and I think you might be interrupted soon.”  
Barry finally saw the watch around Wally’s wrist, finally recognised it as league tech. a communicator. He’d called for help.  
But from who? There were very few people who could square up against a talon, and he’d feel kind of embarrassed if he called Superman.  
“interrupted?” she asked, standing up, the other Talons tensing.  
“yeah,” Wally grinned, “sorry, figured that this was a party for more people.”  
And Barry also finally realised that the shadows in the hallway were longer.   
The talons seemed to realise that, just a second too late.  
A guy in a red mask and leather jacket crashed through the window, pointed guns at the two Talons at the sides. Someone who looked suspiciously like Death stroke twisted out of the hall, levelled a gun at the guy with a knife to Iris’s throat.  
And right over Barry’s shoulder appeared another gun, pointed at miss Orange hair, the arm attached belonging to…   
_Dick Grayson?_  
And he had gold veins and eyes.  
Oh my god.   
The scowl on the Talon’s face was about five inches deep and absolutely terrifying, “Grayson.”   
“evening, Alex.” Dick’s smile was the epitome of swagger, “how’s that mission on Clark Kent going for ya’?”   
“you’re outnumbered,” she reminded him, pulling the blade from the wood of the table with more rage than Barry figured someone could contain.   
“and you have a gun pointed at each of you,” the guy in the red mask said, “that’ll definitely slow you down, healing factor or not.”  
Barry was very sure they had personal proof of that, somehow.  
“besides,” death stroke drawled, “I have reliable sources that tell me decapitation will kill even a Talon.”  
“I doubt you could even pull the trigger.” The talon, apparently Alex, taunted.  
“you wanna test that?” Dick said, dramatically clicking off the safety.  
Barry guessed that he’d kept the safety off till this moment purely so he could do that. Dick was just that dramatic.   
Alex grinned, surveying the room.   
“yes.”  
Alex launched across the room, aiming for Barry. He sped out of the way, and only managed to catch everything that happened because of his superspeed.   
Dick fired his gun, the bullet tearing right through Alex’s wrist.   
Red Mask fired right through his two Talon’s heads, who moved quickly enough for the bullets to slide through the sides of their skulls.   
Slade grabbed the Talon in front of him before he could move, shot him straight through the head.  
While Barry started untying Joan and Jay, Alex turned just barely, falling onto Dick. He rolled back, kicking her over and behind him.  
Jay stood, picked up Joan and sped out, he only got her outside the house before he had to put her down. That was fine, they weren’t on the kill list.  
Slade decapitated his Talon with one of the blades strapped to his back, red mask untied Wally and Artemis. Slade took decapitated red’s talons, just for good measure.  
Right, one left.   
Barry turned at about the same time that everyone focused on the two people still fighting.  
Except they weren’t, because by the time they’d turned Dick had already thrown Alex across the room, and her dagger with her. It stabbed her forearm into the wall right through her Talon armour up to the hilt. considering the length of the blade, she wouldn’t be moving without someone with Superboy strength.  
“jeez Dick, leave me someone to hit.” Wally joked.   
“you good?” red mask asked.  
Dick made a ‘so-so’ face and pointed at an already healing cut down his bicep that looked about half an inch deep. The veins around it burning bright gold. “I’ve had worse.”  
"oh, you’re a real comedian.” Alex snarled, dangling in an uncomfortable looking crumble against the wall, arm up in the air like an idiot.  
"shut it, unless you’re gonna say something helpful.” Death stroke ordered.  
Artemis unloaded the magazines from several guns, dropping them on the table. "this lot came far too well prepared for assassins not expecting a big fight.”  
"I’m guessing they knew I’d find a way to call you in. or at least expected it.” Wally said, kicking the talons at his feet to make sure they weren’t faking.   
"wouldn’t be surprised, kill the flash plus Red Hood and Death Stroke and capture Dick Grayson, you got every sane person’s attention and fear. Even the mobs.” The newly titled ‘Red Hood’ said, leaning against the wall.   
"who are you, exactly? Also, what the fuck is going on?” Barry asked, trying to put together the puzzle as to who all these people were and how- how everything pretty much.   
"Oh, right," Red Hood said, held his hand to his chest, "Jason Todd. Please hold all zombie jokes till you want to be killed.”  
"excuse me what?” Barry asked, his mind so damn boggled he was close to hysterically laughing just to cope. God, he sounded like the Joker. Wow. Now he got it.   
Artemis seemed to be giving Wally a look of rage that suggested she was not aware of this either.   
"sicko here got thrown in the Lazarus pits. Now you’re caught up on that, I suggest you get out of here before the court decide to send reinforcements. Meanwhile, I say we get what information we can out of the orangutan here.” Death stroke said.  
"go fuck yourself.” Alex chimed in.   
"lovely.” Jason said dryly.   
Barry had several questions, and none of them were being answered.   
"before you lot go anywhere I wanna know what the hell is going on.” Barry looked to Wally for answers, Wally looked to Dick, Barry followed.  
"Wally called me for back-up, I brought these two just in case.” Dick explained like it was all obvious.  
"yeah, I got that far on my own, thanks by the way. But how do you know this Talon? How was Wally able to contact you?” Barry had so much adrenaline coursing through his body, his thoughts were a mile a minute. So fast he didn’t think about his next question very well, "why do you look like a talon?”   
"Barry!” Wally yelled, incredulous.  
too late. Barry’s manners were so far out the window.   
Death stroke seemed to have tensed up, as if he didn’t like where this conversation was going.  
"long story," Dick said, his arms crossed. He looked like he was about three seconds from walking straight out of the house.   
Alex laughed and Jason hit her over the head, threatening her with a "shut it.” through clenched teeth.  
"sorry, you don’t have to answer that," Barry sighed, shaking his head. Obviously, this was a touchy subject.   
"I could contact Dick because we met up two weeks ago when all this court of owls bullshit got started.” Wally explained.   
"and I’ve been doing recon on the court since. Alex and I have run into each other.”  
"the leg wound is fine by the way, thanks for asking.” Alex chuckled.   
Jesus Christ.   
“well that answers things.” Barry sighed. He felt milliseconds away from an adrenaline crash and he just wanted to sleep.   
“I’m fine, too, by the way.” Iris called.   
Barry raced through the group and tackled her in a hug before checking her for injuries.   
Wally snorted, “maybe we should get going. Leave these two to their own devices.”   
“shut it West.” Iris ordered, jokingly.


	13. the calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis finally doesn't have to deal with Wally's inability to include the entire story in his recounting, and hear it all from Dick herself. It's a shame it's all overshadowed by the fact that their friend is dead and Dick is a shadow of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really short chapter because I've messed everything up. I can't put in more without having too much, blah blah blah, whatever, I'm sorry. this is the issue I'm having with having written so much of this already, I can't remember what the pacing's like.   
> anyways, sorry.

A mercenary, three ex-heroes and an aspiring mobster walk out of a house into the small alley-sized yard at the side.  
Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. Not to mention they were dragging three practically dead bodies as well as a very alive and kicking one whom was gagged and blindfolded with a dagger in her stomach to stop her from trying anything.   
It sounds barbaric, but really, she wasn’t even a little bit effected by it.   
“we’ll take care of these four.” Slade said, about two seconds away from putting a bullet through the alive one.   
“or, you can dump them at the league’s doorstep and come over for dinner.” Artemis offered, “I would like to catch up with Dick and Jason. Slade, I don’t care about, but I’m guessing it’s a package deal situation.”  
“no, we should really head home arty.” Dick said, “there could be more Talons coming.”   
“that was less of a suggestion and more of an order.”   
Jason sighed, “of course it was.”  
“I’m not going anywhere near the league’s doorstep. As much as I love showing them up, I’m not in the mood for brawling.” Slade huffed.   
“well then, you can go home and wait around.” Artemis commented, “I’ve been caught up on most things, but I want the whole story.”   
“fair enough,” Dick said. He and Artemis hadn’t spoken for four years and Jason had been presumed dead for even longer, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, _he_ wanted to catch up with his friends. Wally and Artemis. Just grab Kal, Conner and Megan and the gang would be back together.   
“the talons are after all of us, forgive me for not wanting to split up.” Slade said, an eye roll was evident in his voice but Dick could hear something more. That slight tone and wording that flared his senses. Slade did not want Dick in any more trouble than he already was.   
“then I guess you’ll just have to come along.” Artemis smirked. She picked up a talon by the collar motioning for Wally to grab the ankles.   
Dick snickered, shrugged to his mercenary friend and grabbed another talon by the collar, flipping him over his shoulder. Jason took Alex, being not at all gentle as he pulled the knife from her stomach and flung her over his shoulder.   
Slade rolled his eyes and took the last Talon. Together the five of them made their way to Barry’s car, shoved two of the Talons in the boot and the other two on the back seats. Dick slid into the driver’s seat, Slade the passengers and Jason awkwardly sat on the floor of the car behind the passenger side grumbling about how little room he had. Wally picked Artemis up bridal style and sped off, the car following.   
They met at the nearest Zeta-tube, deposited the four talons in the watchtower via manual over-ride and some surprisingly good timing with a brief note about who they were and how best to go about getting information from them.   
Wally took Barry’s car back to the scarlet speedster’s home and once he got back to the Zeta-tube the five zeta-ed to Keystone, about two blocks away from Wally and Artemis’ home.   
The two took the lead to open the house up and the like, maybe even check if there were any drinks in the fridge. Meanwhile the mercenary, anti-hero and ex-hero took the shadows, making their way to the house in their own fields of expertise. 

Kaldur was about to head home. The team had finished their training for the night, a few of the leaguers were around for extra security and Kaldur was tired. Ready to go home and attempt at some normalcy in the face of the craziness of everything.   
**Recognise.**  
Uh, what?  
 **Override Night Wing B01 clearance Alpha.**  
Kaldur made sure no one was around to hear the announcement. Dick made it obvious he didn’t want everyone to know where the hell he was, only the leaguers knew the bare minimum.  
 **Guest**  
Who?  
Kaldur began to walk up the steps when four bodies materialised.   
Three were slumped to the ground, black clad. Another was sitting with hands bound, eyes covered, mouth gagged and very bright curly orange hair.   
All of them were talons.   
“son of a bitch.” 

Wally opened a bottle of wine with a flourish and poured out five glasses.   
Dark red wine glinting where the light hit it. Dick wondered if it stained his teeth and made him look as much a killer on the outside as the inside. Momentarily the drink spun in his glass and he saw a body hit the ground with a bullet clean through. Flashes fading in and out, his real surroundings so at odd they pushed his thoughts away.  
Slade leaned against the counter with the drink, awkwardly on the outside of the conversation. He took up guard by the door and checked every shadow and corner, scanned the house around him wary of the threat they faced 24/7.  
Jason made himself at home, sprawled as best one could over a dining chair he’d pulled into the lounge area. He’d come to Wally’s almost as much as Dick’s apartment. more maybe. He’d quickly learned that as an intern/future rookie in the BPD and almost all-time vigilante Dick was not often at home. If Jason needed someone to patch him up after a patrol he was not supposed to go on he’d often swing over to Dick’s window and find no one inside. So, he swung over to Wally’s window instead. The place was as familiar to him as Wayne Manor.   
Dick knew the place just as well and knew Wally and Artemis even more. The main question was, did they know him anymore?   
_Robin_ did not kill, _Night wing_ did not either. _Neither_ of them were practically assassins (which he could almost consider himself. Someone had probably caught on to something substantial enough to start rumours about a new gun-for-hire on the block).   
So really, what was he? Not a hero, not an assassin, not a mercenary, not a villain, not an anti-hero, not a civilian. There were too many lines he crossed, not enough he existed behind to make a box for him to exist in.   
His mind had glitched again, gone static for a few seconds and then speed ran to catch up. Once again no one seemed to have noticed, real people existing while he watched from a distance. He let himself drift as he took a sip from his glass, he pulled out a dining chair of his own and sat, forced himself to rush back to existence. Artemis and Wally took the couch and Slade continued to be an anti-social jackass.   
By the end of the night Dick had decided he didn’t care what, exactly, he was. Or at least, he didn’t care whilst Wally and Artemis were present. He’d work on that. Maybe. Probably not.  
All things considered, including his recent experiences, he likely wouldn’t have to be around many people in his future anyway.   
Heroes don’t much appreciate people with blood on their hands and associations with assassin guilds. His past blocked off villains, if he even wanted to befriend them. And anti-heroes…  
Don’t have friends.  
Well things were looking up so much, weren’t they?

Artemis knew that making Dick come over was the best course of action.   
Their friend was dead.   
Dead.   
Zatanna was dead.   
She hadn’t quite grasped it herself. The fact that the woman who’d saved her life plenty and had had the favour returned was not breathing. That she would not be able to free her father from Fate. That she wouldn’t get to live a life longer than a couple decades.   
She supposed it was just more proof of what their line of work did to them. ‘Their’ because one could never truly escape it, it was still Artemis’s work, she could still be considered one of the heroes. She had not been active in just over two years, but she was on call. A big enough threat and she’d be gearing up again, no questions asked.   
And it would likely lead to her being dead as well, dead before she was thirty, forty if she was lucky. Or maybe worse, maybe it would lead to her never dying at all, being stuck, frozen in time.   
Just like Dick now was.   
Maybe he wasn’t experiencing it yet, but she knew the hurt would come. When his family and friends started falling around him, leaving him living on. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone.   
But if anyone could grow to deal with that pain, learn to shoulder it, it was him.  
So she relaxed, let a smile grow across her face, and she drank, and she talked and she enjoyed the small amount of time she had with her friend. Because it would feel like forever to her, but it may just start slipping through his fingers soon.

When morning came Dick was faced with the new debate as to whether he’d suit up as Night wing when he went to the watchtower.   
If he went in uniform it would give an automatic assumption that he’d be coming back, that he was going to continue leading the team and be Night wing once more. If he didn’t… it would just be like a casual appearance. He would be seen as Dick Grayson not Night wing, which was fine by him all considered.   
But then what questions would he get asked? Because there’d be plenty. If there was any reason they thought he wouldn’t be coming back to the hero gig they would ask. It wasn’t an answer he wanted to spill nor was he in the mood to spin a fake one.   
Eventually he decided to ask a different question as he was getting tired of the current one. And that question was directed to Jason. and was less of a question, more of a statement. Along the lines of:   
“you’re coming with me to the watchtower.”  
“no.” sigh.  
“yes.”   
“why?” seriously Jay?  
“because you have information you can give as well.”  
“since fucking when?” surely he was better at lying than that.  
“at the exact same time as the court being suddenly active a whole lot of mobs have sprung into movement. Even in Metropolis. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”  
“…” got him. “okay, fine. But I only have information on Gotham mobs, not country-wide ones.”  
“who said they weren’t all the same?”  
“what?”   
“I’ve been doing my own investigating, and the court seems awfully connected to some of the mobs in Gotham.”  
“yeah, makes sense. They want info from the streets, that doesn’t mean- “  
“the court wants control. If they are to get it they need to take out the Justice League. Where else have mobs been springing up?”  
“Metropolis, Star, Central, Keystone, Washington.” A sigh on the other side of the phone line, “shit.”  
“yep.”  
Another sigh, “I’ll meet you at the zeta tubes.”


	14. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for another league meeting, this time they'll actually come to a decision on something. or at least that's the plan.   
> if only the court wasn't so pissed.   
> Anyways, Dick really needs a nap, but he can't stop himself from offering to clean up other people's mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer one for y'all this time, enjoy!

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”  
“honestly, neither can I.”

**recognise  
Night wing B01  
Robin B13**

Kaldur was one of the lucky three who knew the tubes would be announcing the two enigmas, and even he had to admit to his amusement at the look of shock on _everyone else’s’ faces._  
The justice league’s meeting table had been set up once more, the usual faces sitting around it. an extra for Tim, who was asked to join the meeting due to his involvement in the topic of conversation. Three for Kaldur, Conner and Megan, the seniors of the team who would be speaking on behalf for all of them during the meeting, as the court was an issue the team would have to face as well at some point. And two more, for guests unknown to all except Kaldur, Tim and Bruce.  
Unknown until the zeta-tubes announced their arrival and the League looked straight at them as they materialised into view at the top of the stairs.  
Jason didn’t look much different than he did the first time Kaldur had seen him since his extravagant introduction back into the land of the living. Kaldur didn’t usually focus on such things, but even he had to admit that Jason was violently handsome. In that he looked like he could body slam you off a building and still look good enough for a photoshoot afterwards.   
The only difference was he wasn’t wearing his signature Red Hood outfit, likely an attempt to not announce to the whole league ‘Hi, I’m an aspiring mobster, I like long walks on the beach and shooting people during drug deals.’  
Dick was… not dressed in his night wing suit.  
Instead he had gone for a simple black jacket and pants with a blue shirt underneath. Knowing Dick, the jacket held plenty of gear and he likely was wearing Kevlar or armouring somewhere, but the message was clear regardless.  
 _I’m not one of you._  
The gold veins didn’t help with that statement.   
Superman and the Flash were the only heroes at the table who hadn’t known they were coming and yet were not the least surprised by the two. The rest of the league as well as Megan and Conner were showing visible shock.  
“I asked Dick and Jason to come to the meeting as they have information they can give us.” Kaldur explained to the league before the silence grew. The two new guests made their way down the stairs and to their seats in the meantime, both nodding to the other members in the room. Dick gave Kaldur a look that he recognised.  
 _‘why didn’t you tell them we were coming?’_  
He smiled apologetically. He’d explain later.   
“when exactly were you intending on telling us Jason wasn’t dead?” Conner asked. Kaldur noticed the smile he shot Jason’s way and guessed at its meeting- ‘hello, it’s good to see you, the team missed you, we need to catch up, are you okay?’  
Smiles seemed to hold a lot more meaning coming from Conner, especially because they were few and far between. Although, that could be said about many of Kaldur’s other friends as well nowadays.  
“they only recently had concrete evidence I was alive,” Jason assured, although the smirk he wore while he said it communicated he was just boasting about his abilities to evade _The Batman._  
“let’s get to the actual reason behind this meeting.” Said bat stated.  
“yes,” Diana agreed, “the attack on Zatanna- “a glance Dick’s way from Kaldur, “has led us to believe that the court plans to take down the league and finally gain control of the country as we suspect they have planned to do for years. We expect them to only become bolder in their attacks. Recently the Flash was attacked in his own home and we suspect many more similar strikes are to come. We need to gather intel on the court and discuss the best way to go about apprehending them all before they can harm or kill anyone else.”  
“we also believe that the court has lackies in mobs around the country. Recently several new ones have sprung up in nearby cities and seem extremely aggressive to each other, likely caused by stances on the court.” Green arrow added.   
“or egged on by the court as a tactic to distract the league.” Batman stated, “Gotham’s mobs have been gaining in numbers and scrambling to take land for themselves. Intel suggests that some groups are aware of the court and preparing themselves for when they take over so they may have a chance at keeping some of what they own.”  
“no,” Jason objected, and received a roomful of raised eyebrows, “the mobs in Gotham have been adding up in numbers but not because they want to fight off the court. They’re attempting to build up armies so that when the court knocks on their door they have something to show. They’re attempting to gain favour.”  
“how do you know this?” arrow asked.  
“you think I’ve been sitting on my ass since I woke up in the Lazarus pits? I’ve been getting information on the mobs since I got back to Gotham. All of them were preparing for something but no one wanted to spill. It wasn’t till Dick pointed a few things out that I realised they were getting ready to fight for the court.”  
“as soon as enough league members are out of the picture the mobs will swarm the streets and provide a smoke screen while the court infiltrates government more than they already have. Then the court orders them to ease off and they rule with an iron fist and an army of talons and street thugs to provide back up.” Dick explained.   
The league seemed convinced except, “you only have limited intel from the street’s side though, not the court’s.” Icon said.  
“I’ve got the information from the court’s side,” Dick explained, which definitely didn’t get any good reactions, Kaldur couldn’t help but think he could have worded it differently, “in the past week I’ve been infiltrating their tech and headquarters, it all adds up.”  
“well if that’s the case, then we need to start planning for how we react.” Diana stated grimly.   
At least she was proceeding as usual, the amount of leaguers very clearly noticing the signature gold veins started setting the blood in Kaldur’s veins to boil.  
Breathe.  
Okay, proceed.  
“a public announcement wouldn’t be a good idea. It would pull people in and could possibly harm civilians in the long run.” Clark chimed in.  
“mmm and attempting to contact the court could end in catastrophe.” Dinah sighed, “they may use any signal they get from us to- “   
To what?  
Kaldur could only guess. Because at that moment the zeta-tubes exploded. 

Dick was on his feet in a fraction of a second, he threw himself over Jason as dust and debris shot through the room and lit up in bright light.  
“did you just-?”   
Dick was back on his feet and pulling out one of the blades hidden in his jacket. Behind him Jason did something similar, gripping a pistol tightly, a gash across his cheek from something that had managed to get past Dick’s body-shield, and an annoyed look at the fact Dick had provided that shield.   
M’gann flung the table at the approaching attackers, and by the time the sound of the table crashing against bodies and cement burst through the room, Dick had thrown himself into the battle.   
The dust still hung in the air like a man on death row, and the attackers took it to their advantage.  
Dick strained his ears and heard someone to his left before he saw the flash of gold.   
How many Talons had come?  
One was too many.

Tim was shielded by someone at the table for the initial explosion, he didn’t stay hidden long enough to notice who. He sprung out, throwing discs at any talon-shaped shadow he could see, flinging himself away from any oncoming attackers. The dust stung his eyes and he took the extreme road and closed his eyes against it. god knows he wasn’t seeing anything anyway.  
His ears strained and he thought only about a moment before he sprinted into the fight.

The court was enraged.   
The grandmaster had never been so insulted.  
 _Their talon._ The one who was supposed to fight for them had captured three of their talons and handed them over to the _justice league._ the _heroes._  
Well, if that’s how it was going to be, then they would oblige. If the league was going to be so involved so early, then so be it.

The zeta-tubes were completely blocked by the attackers and the lights flickered haphazardly to alert everyone that the computers were hacked. Even if the tubes weren’t blocked, they wouldn’t be taking anyone anywhere.   
And as Dick fought through the crowd of Talons he noticed the lights turn off completely and then gradually come on again, except red.  
The court had cut the watchtower’s energy source, they were on residual energy.   
The light change didn’t affect him much, but the realisation left him open for a punch square in the face. 

Kaldur didn’t know how he was holding his own in the fight.   
When he last fought against Talons he’d barely kept above it all, but there were many more this time.  
 _Many more._  
All sides and every second.   
This was life or death.

Super boy couldn’t keep track of the fight.  
There were talons literally _everywhere_ and one replaced the other.  
And the other.  
He was so focused on surviving that he was instinctually fighting, he couldn’t even think about his training. No flashy moves, no forward planning. He just had to stay alive. 

Tim didn’t want to fight talons ever again in his life.   
He’d take sparring with Ra’s Al Ghul over going fist to fist with these feathered figures any day, but right now he couldn’t make that choice.   
He leapt over a chunk of debris, ready to throw another batarang at some black clad bitches, when another black figure jumped him and threw him towards the nearest exit to the rest of the watchtower.   
“go!” it was Bruce, “find the team, get out of here!”  
“like hell!” Tim took a note from Dick’s book, running and sliding though batman’s legs and using the momentum to barrel back to the fight.   
He lurched backwards and skid across the ground. Batman had grabbed him by the cape and flung him back, apparently Tim wasn’t as fast as Grayson.   
“go before you get yourself killed!”

Superman expected to be one of the few who could take the Talons without breaking a sweat, but soon found that would be a minor issue.   
He flew up above the dust and debris looking for a point to go in where he could attack the Talons easiest without worrying about other leaguers, he sighed with relief when he heard the vents kick up a notch and start trying to suck the dust out. the sooner they could see the better.   
He teetered in the air and dropped, he could feel a headache growing at the back of his head and recognised the sickening affects of kryptonite.   
It was coming from the vents.   
He spotted a talon in the corner of his eye and moved to dodge, but it was going to be too late.   
Icon moved in, picked Superman up and flew him to one of the doors.   
“find the team!” then he zipped off.   
Superman brought his arm to his mouth; it wouldn’t do much but it was a reflex when there was kryptonite somehow in the air. He ran from the room, on his way to find the members of the team housed in the watchtower, hoping Conner would be okay. 

Jason was beginning to think he’d have to thank Death stroke for teaching Dick, because at least three times in the current battle had Dick’s more lethal fighting style come in handy by saving Jason’s fucking life.   
He’d ran out of bullets in his pistol and was tempted to switch it out for another firearm but decided against it when he spotted Dick sneak up behind a talon and stab it through the back of the neck before it noticed.   
In this environment, stealth was optimal.  
Having a healing factor would be fantastic as well, but we can’t have everything. 

Super boy fell limp at one point in the battle and Megan had panicked.   
There was kryptonite in the air.   
She levitated him out of the dust into the door, sneaking him into the shadows. She would have run him all the way into another room, but a Talon jumped from behind and she came to the decision that she was needed in the battle right now. 

Dick fought his way to the Zeta Tubes and found the problem.  
They’d been completely blown up. They wouldn’t be working with just some simple hacking because the entire structure was destroyed.   
They were stuck in the watchtower.   
A talon jumped him from behind and he rolled with them, crawling, scratching for control as they slid across the metal inside of the zeta tubes.   
His head slammed back as they stopped and he looked up into the gleaming gold eyes of Alex.   
"Talon.”  
"fuck off.” He brought his legs up and around her throat, slammed her into the ground and rolled away. Coming up to a crouch just as she leapt back at him again.  
He had been trained by Batman, Black Canary and Death Stroke and yet she still managed to give him a run for his money. Now that the element of surprise wasn’t on his side. He fought against her, slowly moving further back into the tubes.   
She kicked, punched and lashed out like a feral animal, and when she wasn’t as distracted pulled out a knife.   
Dick dodged every blow he could, and as she slashed high he ducked low, stealing a knife from her belt and using the momentum to move a safer distance away.  
His shoulder stung and from the corner of his eye he spotted a dark red gash.   
As he stood and faced her it healed almost entirely.   
"you could end this now," she grinned as she flipped her knife in her hand, "surrender to the court.”  
"I’m not a fan of the uniform.” A shadow crept behind him and he noticed two more Talons sneaking from the entrance to the tubes.   
"picky, picky.”  
And then it started again, another Talon joining the fray. 

Kaldur made his way to the zeta tubes, but every time he gained ground It felt like he lost twice as much.  
The dust had thinned and the sound of fighting had quieted, and he hoped the latter was for a positive reason over the negative option.   
As he swung his water bearer it morphed into a mace and drove itself right into the face of a Talon, sending them flying off into the air, he turned to face another black shadow.  
But the Talon just stood there and as Kaldur paused in confusion it fractured into thousands of white molecules, bright enough that he averted his eyes.  
It looked like it had zeta-beamed out of the watchtower. But that was impossible…  
As he thought this he noticed two Talons bound up the stairs to the zeta tube, one stalking inside and the other going to the controls.   
He heard rather than saw another Talon fighting with someone inside.   
He came up behind the Talon at the controls, which turned around before he could attack, sword hissing as it drew it from the sheath. Kaldur’s water bearers morphed to a pair of katanas and he was back in the fight, limbs aching.   
He was quite sure he’d been caught along his back by one blade already, and he sharply drew in air as the Talon he was fighting now sliced for his torso, a hairsbreadth from breaking skin.   
Poseidon save him. 

Barry slammed into the wall of the watchtower, falling almost immediately back to the floor.   
He fought to his knees, watched as the Talon who threw him followed him to the wall.   
He struggled more, but he had felt a bone crack- maybe even several- and his legs were both dripping in blood.   
He had so many injuries it was taking a while for any of them to heal.   
Just as it seemed the Talon would make it to Barry and crack more of his bones, Diana came in, grabbing Barry by the arm and throwing him behind a piece of debris.   
When she turned back all that was left of the Talon was a bright fading glow. 

Once Kaldur finally managed to shake the Talon he was fighting he limped up to the controls.   
He felt his blood trickle down his calf, more of it along his spine.   
He gripped the controls for the broken zeta tubes and held himself up mind racing as he struggled to figure out what was going on.   
The zeta tubes had been rigged to transport whoever was inside to a place in Gotham. He didn’t take much note of the coordinates, just the big timer that was counting down and was very close to hitting zero.   
The tubes wouldn’t be able to transport anyone, they were completely destroyed…  
But they would still try, the Talon responsible had rigged some kind of tech to the computer, perhaps what had been used to send off the Talon he’d spotted disappear before.   
He skimmed over the computer, trying to grasp what was happening.   
The tubes were going to erupt with zeta energy, theoretically sending anyone present inside the tubes to the chosen location.   
But that wouldn’t work, the tubes were set so they wouldn’t transport anyone until they had been scanned and recognised by the computer, the zeta energy didn’t work like a gun, you couldn’t point it at someone and teleport them-  
But, he had seen something happen with zeta technology that did work like a gun.  
But that wasn’t real, and it killed people it didn’t transport them…  
He took note of who was fighting in the tubes then.  
Dick.  
They were going to try and transport him somewhere? Where-  
Oh.   
He looked at the coordinates, then the location it marked, and memorised it as best he could. But then he heard the tubes sputter to life, and noticed the counter getting too low for his liking and turned to the three fighters in the tubes. 

Dick spun, dodged and rolled out of the way, trying to turn out of the tubes.   
If he kept at this much longer the two Talons he was fighting would knock him unconscious and he’d be done for.   
He wanted to say he could stand against these Talons like he had when fighting with Slade, Jason and the others when he’d escaped the court but he was on his own and he’d been worn down way to much. And he wasn’t on the high of recently being given the Court’s serum.   
One of the talons gripped him by the hair and slammed him into the ground head-first. His vision swam as he gasped in air, and then felt it cut off as a pressure on his neck appeared.   
He could see the blurry figure of a talon above him, boot pressed into his neck.   
He instinctively reached up and tried to pull it off, but to no avail.   
He grit his teeth, hell no was he passing out like this.   
He whipped his legs up, twisting them round the talon’s leg and moved like a snake.   
He pushed down with as much strength as he had and then some, still holding the Talon’s ankle.   
Something gave and the Talon fell, lurching to the side. A sickening snap filled the air as the talon hit the ground and Dick gasped in a breath as the Talon screamed  
Dick didn’t dawdle, he twisted and forced himself up, using what little momentum he had to slam his knife into the back of the Talon’s neck before they could stand.   
He felt another Talon slam into him from behind and once again he was rolling and skidding across the floor of the zeta tubes.   
He felt a sudden heat from them and noticed a glow as they sputtered to life.   
What the shit?   
Alex slammed him down again, going for the throat. Dick slapped her hands away and right hooked her across the face, twisted till he was above her, holding his own hands over her throat.   
“dick!” his head shot up to the entrance of the tubes, Kaldur pointed to the lights inside and Dick finally took note of the tubes prepping to transport someone.   
Not good.   
Dick slipped the last knife from Alex’s armour, smaller than the rest and blindly stabbed down, then bounded up and ran for the entrance.   
He leaped and screwed his eyes shut as the light of the zeta tubes exploded behind him.   
He rolled down the stairs and back up to his feet at the ground as Kaldur slid to a stop next to him.   
There weren’t any ongoing fights left, the leaguers stood in shock, glancing between Kaldur, Dick and the Zeta Tubes.   
Dick sighed, finally relaxing and taking a deep breath. He felt the last of his wounds close over as he turned to Kaldur and helped him up.   
Kaldur took a deep breath as his own injuries were agitated and Dick helped him gain his balance, several of the leaguers helping others similarly.  
“you good?” Dick asked.  
Kaldur patted his head and chest and smiled, “still in one piece, my friend.”  
“we can’t get rid of you that easily.” Dick joked, and hugged Kaldur as he chuckled.   
“let’s check the others.”


	15. medication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> patch-ups. But for someone who's wounds heal almost immediately, what does first-AID qualify for?   
> In Dick's experience, it's Barbara.

Black Canary had about two seconds of no longer fighting a talon before she moved to find another. Except this time, she found no awaiting Talons to fight.   
"please tell me that’s the last of them.” Barry said, leaning on a piece of rubble and rubbing his legs, which were covered in blood and obviously still healing.   
"no," Icon said, nodding to the zeta-tubes, "someone’s fighting up inside the tubes.”   
Canary could hear it, and outside the tubes Kaldur was clinging to the computer system in confusion.  
She climbed halfway up the stairs to the tubes, recognising Dick fighting two talons inside. A couple leaguers were behind her and also stopped when she did, looking on in shock.   
She had practically watched Dick Grayson grow up, and as much as she’d seen him be violent in fights, she’d never seen it like this.   
Brutal. That was the best word she could think of.   
He’d wrapped his legs around the talon’s and slammed him into the ground, the angle and strength and impact created a sickening snap and Canary could tell the assassins knee was mush.   
And then he moved, faster than Canary thought possible and stabbed the assassin through the throat without thought.   
Like it was a reflex.   
Canary was frozen, so were the few leaguers behind her, and she could tell a few others were confused about what they were looking at and were beginning to follow behind them.   
Then Dick was tackled by another Talon and Canary remembered she intended to help him.   
Before much else could happen though Dick showed once again he didn’t need their help. He punched the talon across the face and used the momentum to roll out from under her. Kaldur shouted a warning and Canary realised the tubes were about to explode.   
She and the other leaguers ran for it, running from the fire zone.   
But Canary saw as Dick took a knife from the talon and stabbed blindly, the knife on a one-way trip for the talon’s face.   
And then the tubes exploded and everyone present took cover and prayed. 

Jason shoved a piece of concrete off of his thighs and coughed into his jacket sleeve.   
He was bloodied and bruised all over and he was quite sure he’d broken something, but he struggled to his feet anyway noticing many leaguers doing the same. He took little interest in which leaguers were getting up, which weren’t and which likely wouldn’t be getting up ever again and instead made his way to the bottom of the stairs where Dick and Kaldur were helping each other from the ground.   
“you two good?” he asked, absentmindedly checking his weapons.   
“nothing life-threatening.” Kaldur said, eyes glancing around the room, “we better get everyone together and check their wounds, though. And see if the team’s okay.”   
"or we could gtfo right now before we have to deal with everyone else’s shit.” Jason suggested. Dick shot him a look, "okay fine.”  
"the way things are looking, that was a very clear statement from the court; they’re fighting the league too now. We have to stay and help.” Dick explained.   
"I’m not a league member, though. I’m not even a hero anymore, man, they don’t want me here.” Jason said, "realistically I can help you more by leaving now and tracking down those talons.”  
"I saw the location they were going to on the computer. We need to start prepping for their next move, not running in guns blazing.” Kaldur explained.   
Jason nodded, despite the fact that running in guns blazing was his favourite move, "fine. But if they start the high-and-mighty talk I’m gone.”  
Kaldur nodded and said he was off to check on the team, he gave Jason and Dick one last once over than left.   
"we better check on the leaguers, too.” Dick started towards the rubble but Jason held him back with a hand to his chest.  
"what happened up there?” Jason asked, nodding up to the zeta-tubes.   
"just a couple talons trying to get a hit in," he tried for a smile, but it was so clearly forced it didn’t last long, "why?”   
"you look a little shaken up is all," Jason looked him over again, was he wrong? Had he misread? No, Dick’s stance was tight, he was tense, his jaw was clenched and- oh here it is, arms folded like a metaphorical wall. He was not having a good time up there in his head.  
"I’m fine.”  
"I don’t believe you.”  
Dick sighed, "we don’t have time for this right now Jay.”  
"we haven’t had time for this since we re-met. And you haven’t had time for this since ever. You were stuck with the court for a whole goddamn week, the last thing you need to be dealing with is the league’s bullshit.” Jason lowered his voice when he noticed Dick’s eyes zip around the room for people listening in.   
“we can talk about this later,” Dick hissed, nodding at the leaguers around the room.   
“have you talked about any of it at all?” Jason asked. Surely Slade had breached the subject? Actually no, he was likely too awkward and had no idea what to do.   
“I’ve… been busy.”  
“you mean you’ve been repressing?”   
“shut the fuck up.”  
Jason chuckled, “look, I get it, we got shit to do. But you gotta sit down and talk to someone. Or something I don’t know. you can’t just keep pushing things away in favour of throwing yourself into work.”  
“work is more important right now.”   
“you can’t help anyone before you help yourself. You’re gonna crash. You keep throwing yourself off of buildings without looking, but eventually there’s not gonna be something for you to aim you’re grapple at.”  
“stop it with the metaphors it doesn’t suit you.”   
“you know I’m right.”  
Dick sighed, shoulders dropping, “look, I promise when we’re finished here I’ll… talk or… something. I don’t know. but right now we have work to do.”  
“okay. But I’ll hold you to that.”  
His gold eyes rolled and Jason couldn’t help but feel a shiver. They were still something he wasn’t used to and seeing something he felt was a symbol of a deadly killer on his older brother’s face was mildly unsettling.   
But he put that aside in favour of helping his brother. That was a him problem that he needed to work on separately, more important to him was helping the one family member he had left that he really cared about. Well, one of the two family members. It was impossible not to love Alfred. 

Batman checked his fellow leaguers discreetly, noticing the limps, the holding of wounds, pained smiles and those staying on the ground over getting up and inevitably feinting. But no one seemed dead or dying.   
There was someone he couldn’t see though.  
Finally, at the foot of the stairs from the zeta-tubes, he spotted Dick. Jason was with him and Kaldur. He forgot, momentarily, that dick’s healing factor meant there were no injuries to worry about, a strange thought to him. Jason seemed to be favouring his right side and Kaldur seemed okay aside from a long slash down his back and up his calf. He couldn’t spot Tim, which meant he must have followed orders and gone to the team. He sighed; his boys were okay. Kaldur moved off, likely to check on the team, and Jason and Dick continued to converse. He wanted to check on them, talk, but he didn’t know where to start. He needed to be their for Dick and he needed to talk to Jason even more.  
Before he could do much, though, he heard a cough to his left and zeroed in on the culprit.   
Miss Martian leaned heavily against a piece of rubble, bruised and cut all over. Her red hair made redder by a stain spreading from the back of her head.   
Batman could tell she needed urgent care, but her wounds didn’t seem too bad. Yet, something about her posture and body language screamed to whatever parental instinct he had that she needed a gurney and oxygen mask stat.   
“miss Martian are you okay?” he asked, walking to her side in case she feinted or needed support.  
“I got into one of their heads,” she said, “I have information.”  
“that’s great, but do you need medical attention?” he asked. He spotted J’onn flying over, so at least he wasn’t the only one worried.   
“I, uh…” she held her hand to her head, “the room is spinning.”   
J’onn landed next to them right on time, M’gann feinted and her uncle caught her.   
“I’ll take her to the med-room,” he said and then mentally told the inhabitants of the room to bring all injured to the med room and regroup. 

“okay the fights over let’s meet everyone outside the med-bay.”  
Superman lead the team towards the medical bay, Tim following close behind. The team was anxious at the explanation of the court’s attack, knowing their mentors and co-workers were nearby fighting assassins that couldn’t really die put them on a teetering edge. They were struggling to not race through the halls chaotically and discover who was and wasn’t injured or, worse, dead.   
Before superman, Tim and Conner had burst into the room they were just chilling, they were unaware that the league was even holding a meeting. They were having ‘mental training and team skill strengthening’ or, as it was known without the bullshit, bonding time while they completed their own individual tasks whether it be homework, research or actual mental training.   
When Tim had stumbled in he’d found Barbara teaching a few select people some computer knowledge, Stephanie sitting by her side attempting to be supportive even though she had no idea what Barbara was talking about.   
Now the three were side by side, in uniform, worried about what injuries Bruce or Jason had managed to gain. Tim didn’t know the second Robin, but he knew that Dick and Bruce loved him and his death had had a huge impact. He had to admit he looked up to Jason, his two years as Robin were action-packed and filled with achievements that Tim hoped to live up to. The weight on his shoulders Jason’s legacy left may also have been his reasoning for re-naming himself Red Robin.  
and Steph had never known Jason either. In fact, she barely knew Dick. Her relationship with him was small due to his four-year-long leave starting not long after she started running about in purple causing Bruce trouble. To her Dick was the Golden Boy whose abilities could not be lived up to and a hero no one could replace.   
_Barbara_ was the only one who knew _both_ Jason and Dick, Tim couldn’t imagine how she felt. Her surrogate little brother and her hero-in-arms who also happened to be an ex had gone toe-to-toe against Talons. Worse yet, she hadn’t spoken to either of them yet. With everything she heard about the two the suspense must be killing her. Tim could imagine her inner monologue of ‘what if Jason dies again before I can speak to him?’. The fact she was confined to a wheelchair forced Tim not to run at Superman and Conner’s heels, staying firmly at her side for any needed support.   
They made it to the door to the infirmary, through the glass they could see several leaguers rushing about and others being treated. Outside the infirmary stood a few people who had already been treated or had managed to avoid serious injury.   
Bart rushed over to Barry, Garfield ran inside towards M’gaan, Blue Beetle behind him to offer support. Wonder Girl started a conversation with Wonder Woman, Lagoon Boy went to help patch up Aqua man.  
And Tim’s eyes zeroed in on Dick and Jason casually chatting the furthest from the door. Kaldur was with them, his leg and torso bandaged.  
He heard Barbara’s breath hitch. 

The only reason Jason was in the Watchtower, the only reason he had come within two feet of the league’s Zeta-Beams, the only reason he was dealing with any of the hero’s bullshit, the only reason he was near Batman without pulling a gun on him was because of Richard Grayson.   
Richard Grayson who he fully expected to be standing against. Richard Grayson, his brother, whom he had always thought the world of. He was there because, as much as he did not want to admit it, he wanted at least one of his family members to stay in his life. just the one. His main quarrel was with Batman and his insufferable ability to not care about anyone. He wanted to storm out every second that passed by but the fact that Dick was there and needed some form of silent support was keeping him there.   
He was barely managing to not glare at _Red Robin_ every second he was within his eyesight.   
And then he and two other people rounded the corner into the hallway and Jason backtracked.   
That was Barbara.  
In a wheelchair.   
Barbara. Gordon.   
What?   
He hadn’t been entirely keeping up with anyone associated with the bat in the time he’d been back, he was too busy becoming an up-and-coming mobster. He’d thought that the batgirl running around was Barbara having some kind of personality crisis or something seeing as she suddenly was blonde, but he didn’t feel the need to investigate.   
He should have investigated.   
When he was Robin… god when _he was Robin_. That was so long ago and he’d barely grasped that till he was standing in a corridor with twice as many bat-people as there used to be.   
Robin, Batgirl and Barbara made a beeline towards them, replacement-bird was grim faced, blondie had a facial expression Jason could only label as excitement for whatever reason and Barbara was wearing a barely concealed smirk as she eyed Dick with the expression of a lioness closing in on prey.   
Shit, they had been dating right? When he was Robin? They were dating? He was sure of it. positive. They’d hidden it from the Bat at first which included Jason at the time because he was rather truthful to Bats the first year. Then they’d become an off-and-on teenage/young adult disaster that included a few slammed doors, a couple badly hidden make-out sessions and a touch of canoodling during patrols. Overall, they were definitely some form of couple. Definitely.   
Which means Dick had just disappeared for four years without a word (or maybe a word, Jason didn’t know) to Barbara, and now he was back and hadn’t bothered to make the effort to catch up till now when the league had been attacked by a bunch of bloodthirsty birds.   
Jason hadn’t had a lot of experiences with dating, but he was quite sure that was _not advisable._ Especially if the one you were dating was Barbara Gordon.  
And if Jason’s memory wasn’t slipping from him (he couldn’t be sure after the pits) he could recall at least one argument between the two ending with Barbara threatening to cut Dick’s balls off.   
So… he may or may not have hovered his hand over his gun as the three approached and Barbara sized Dick up.   
“Grayson.”   
“Gordon.”  
“’spose I have to teach you about make-up now to cover the gold, else everyone’ll reckon you’re some kind of escaped MET Gala lab rat.” Gordon’s shit eating grin was almost contagious. Almost. Jason didn’t know what he thought of her. She was a bat. But she wasn’t _the_ bat.  
“you’d have to know how to do make-up first.” Replacement and blonde were watching on in a strange mix between confusion, worry, anger and something else, possibly more confusion.  
Barbara snorted, something that hinted this was all an elaborate joke between the two and not an actual tense situation, but the other two didn’t pick up on it. he couldn’t be too sure though.  
“so, I don’t hear from you for, what? 12 hours? And then everyone’s going crazy about Night wing being back and I can’t help but think ‘that’s funny, cause I coulda sworn he called me, slightly tipsy, three drinks in, and had waxed poetic about the horrors of judgement and expectations and how you weren’t sure you liked the night wing suit anymore cause you couldn’t fit many weapons on the god damn thing’ and in the whole conversation I couldn’t recall me succeeding in persuading you back to the light side.”  
“now hang on,” Dick’s lips twisted slightly in a smile, but Barbara was having none of it. Kaldur was watching in mild annoyance at the exchange, but Jason could tell he was happy to see the two ripping into each other again. or rather, Barbara ripping into Dick again. their bickering must have been more common than Jason thought.   
“and I called you and got no answer which is fair enough considering the hangover I saw coming, but then I didn’t hear from you for _another three weeks_ and Tim started going on about assassin birds, which was a jolt to the system and a half.” She squinted in an attempt at a joking glare and cocked her head, “so, basically, _what kind of bullshit_ ,” Dick held a hand to his face in masked exasperation or shame, but from Jason’s angle he could see it was just an attempt at hiding the oncoming silent laughter. “did you get yourself into Richard Grayson, and why the _fuck_ did you not call me to save your ass.” Barbara giggled slightly, “and what in the fresh _hell_ are you wearing? Is that a denim fucking jacket? It better not be. and when was your last haircut?”  
“oh I’m sorry I didn’t realise I was talking to the fashion police.”  
“shut the fuck up and give me a fucking hug you bi disaster bastard.”   
Dick laughed and did just that, reaching down and hugging her like their wasn’t the awkwardness of a wheelchair in the way, which finally snapped Jason out of his confusion enough to realise that he was wrong. Dick had not disappeared for four years from Barbara’s life. just everyone else’s.   
He supposed she was the one person he could not live without to some extent, whether it was in a romantic or platonic sense. The two had mentally attached to the hip. They were each other’s crutches.   
Which begged the question: why hadn’t Barbara heard from him in the past three weeks? Why had he not fled straight to her doorstep?  
"excuse me, can I get a spark notes presentation on what the fuck is going on right now?” Tim smiled slightly.   
"Dickhead here ghosted me for three weeks and I’m rather cross.” Barbara fake pouted.  
"oh I’m sorry, it’s not like I was being chased by a bunch of immortal assassins or anything.” Dick rolled his eyes, smile crinkling the edges of them, “You’re right, next time something like that’s happening, I’ll lead them right to your front doorstep.”   
"I’m still lost.” Blondie frowned.   
Jason snorted, "trouble in paradise, you know the story.” He gestured to a spot by the wall, empty, closer to the door, "let’s get out of their hair, shall we?”  
"don’t think you’re exempt from a lecture either Todd.” Barbara gave him a short glare then turned back to Dick as they walked out of their conversation.   
Jason leaned heavily into the wall; his leg was sore but when he’d had it checked he’d been told it wasn’t anything too major. Other leaguers had taken precedence over his bruising.   
He was quite sure the reason he wasn’t so battered and bruised had something to do with the shadow he’d noticed while fighting, just at the corner of his eye. Dick was more of a mother hen than he’d thought, but hopefully his own ability had shown him well enough he need not be.   
Kaldur leaned up against the wall next to him, sighed heavy through his nose.   
“you two got out pretty well,” Tim observed, staying standing. Jason couldn’t help but eye his stance, relaxed but clearly square capable of jumping into a fighting stance any second, the way his eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, running the numbers, calculating likelihoods, detecting every bit of information. He knew that was what was running through his mind because it ran through his, too. Was ingrained. The process was second nature.  
And it was thanks to the bat.   
He grit his teeth, now was not the time to wallow in how the bat ruined his bloody life. now was not the time to monologue about everything. That was designated to when he showered and got pissed. In other words twice a night  
“well, we did have prior experience.” Kaldur answered by way of explanation.   
Jason almost smirked at the thought. ‘prior experience’ made it sound like a job experience trip, a short excursion and then they got ice cream.   
“am I getting an explanation or are you three gonna leave me out of the loop?” blondie asked.   
“I wasn’t aware there was a loop.” Jason drawled, already tired of the new bat. Was she Barbara’s replacement? She seemed to be the blonde batgirl he’d seen running about, so she must be. he found it pitiful, that Bruce would take some wannabe over Barbara. It was like taking an apple iMac over the bat computer.   
But in the end it just cemented his view further. They were his soldiers, when one fell in battle he was quick to bring in another. No sign of weakness. All perfect little weapons.   
He’d died, that’s what got him replaced. Dick…  
What was the story behind Dick? Why did Bruce take Jason as robin? Why did he have to? Dick always seemed happy to work with batman, like he was happy to play soldier. Although, at the time, it had all seemed more appealing to Jason.   
There was, evidently, a bit more to the story of Night wing’s becoming than he’d thought, and maybe even more to Dick’s extended leave of absence.   
But he couldn’t make himself feel a sting at the possibility of Dick lying to him. Lies were what this family dealt in, they traded them like currency. He wore his proudly like jewels on a chain. His life was a series of lies displayed arrogantly on his sleeves, the truths driven so far beneath his skin he didn’t even know they existed anymore. What hurt about Bruce’s lies is that he thought they were more important than those he loved. Jason did not. If only he had some people he loved he could prove it.   
But he had never thought Dick the type.   
“I had not thought Dick had kept in touch with anyone, evidently I was wrong. I am not surprised the one person Dick continued talking to was Barbara.” Kaldur said, humour in his voice.   
“are they on or…?” Jason asked, pretending not to notice Tim’s embarrassed blush and blondie’s not-too-subtle look-away.   
“I don’t think they have been for a while. They were always better at the platonic thing anyway.” Kaldur said, also ignoring the teenagers.   
“I wasn’t really asking about their love-life.” blondie muttered.  
“yeah, we know. we just don’t care.” Jason earned only a sour look from her for that. He didn’t care. The earlier she figured out this “bat-clan” was a hellish mess, the better for her.   
"thanks for the clarification.” she said drily, with the air of a teenager trying to seem interesting to the adults present.   
Jason took a deep breath.   
This was going to be a long day. 

Barbara watched Jason and Kaldur walk away with Steph and Tim. She was mildly annoyed that Jason wasn’t sticking around for this conversation, she wanted to catch up, see how he was doing. The guy _died_ ; she wasn’t gonna brush that off. She couldn’t guess what he was going through right now.   
_But_  
She understood why he’d walked away.   
Because standing in front of her was Dick Grayson and the guy had gold veins and was being chased by a bunch of scary killer-owls.   
In other words, if she put off speaking to Dick in favour of talking to Jason, she may never be able to do the prior. Although, knowing Jason he would likely run into some catastrophe and get himself killed again. unless by dying he’d changed.  
No. he wouldn’t have changed _that much._   
But first, she’d talk to Dick. And then she’d talk to Jason.   
“so Deathstroke, then?” she gave him a smirk, “did you manage to melt the poor mercenary’s heart?”  
“oh, ha, ha.”   
“I’m serious. I remember when we were kids he admired your abilities, seeing as you were like 10. Plus he was all mushy cause his daughter had died and we could tell he was contemplating taking a protégé. Didn’t think he’d follow through.”  
“I wasn’t his protégé.” Dick raised an eyebrow, but Barbara could tell he was himself wondering of he could be considered so.   
“whatever helps you sleep at night.” Barbara forced a light smirk, waving him towards a room down the hall where they could talk without people listening in. she wasn’t the judgemental type, anti-heroes weren’t despicable villains to her. She’d fought alongside Ivy, Harley and Cat woman, befriended them to. Dick knew this, certain topics weren’t off-limits to her that would be to some of the tunnel-vision views of some leaguers. That was okay, normally she wouldn’t care overly, but judgemental stares are rather annoying when one is trying to have a heart-to-heart with their friends.   
There was a second that Barbara recognised something in Dick’s expression, however, at what she’d said. She hadn’t meant it to mean anything, it was just a term she used often.   
But as she and Dick entered the room- which appeared to be a side room similar to the one Dinah once used for therapy sessions in the mountain- she noticed how his eyes had a momentary far-off look, how his breath hitched.   
But the glitch only lasted a short moment, so short someone wouldn’t normally notice it. but she was a bat, she was taught to look for those quirks. Better yet, she was Barbara Gordon and as much as she was better at computers than people she was still better at Dick Grayson’s than computers.   
So she noticed.   
And she filed that notice in the back of her mind for later thought. She’d take it out again later that night, after this conversation and once everything had quieted down a bit more.   
But then they were away from prying eyes and Dick was slumping into an armchair and Barbara had moved herself to sit in front of him.  
“so, catch me up.”  
"uh, Slade has become suddenly empathetic, which is surprising and disconcerting. Jason seems to be plotting some kind of mob-related revenge on Bruce and I can’t decide whether I should say something. I should right? But also I don’t have all the facts. Wally and Artemis are doing well by the looks, although arty seemed annoyed about Wally forgetting to mention Jay was alive.” Dick rambled, Barbara was okay with that, he’d make it to the point eventually, "Kaldur seems okay, although I’m sure you’d know. I can tell Bruce wants me to move back into the mansion, which would be rather pitiful considering I’m 22 and moved out when I was 17. That’s, like, more embarrassing than not moving out till you’re 22- which isn’t that embarrassing really. Tim seems to be doing okay, although he is very clearly stressed and could do with some support. And, uh… I think that’s it?”  
Barbara leaned her head against her hand, propped against the rests, “I meant catch me up, specifically about you.”   
Dick snickered, copied her position and their faces were barely a foot apart, “me? But I’m so boring.”  
“that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” His hair was longer than he usually kept it and a strand had fallen in front of one of his bright once-aquamarine eyes. The gold wasn’t sickly or disconcerting, which she’d frankly been expecting. To her the gold looked fantastical, maybe slightly hawk-like.   
“really? Bigger than when I told school-yard idiots I was straight to keep them off my back?”  
“ha, ha, no I guess that was a bigger one.” She flicked a hair away from in front of her eyes, “but do answer the question.”   
“uh,” Dick genuinely didn’t know how to answer that question. Usually when he was in a situation like this he’d respond with whatever he thought the person he was speaking to needed to hear. Or at least what would get them off his back. but with Barbara there was nothing he could say, but the truth.   
“uh?”   
“I don’t know how to articulate things, other than ‘I’m enjoying the shitstorm’.”   
“then you’re a step ahead of the average person, who should be curled up in a ball, crying.” Barbara raised an eyebrow.  
“believe me, I’d rather be doing that.” Barbara chuckled, leaning back in her chair. Dick ran his hand through his hair, “shit, you’re right, this is long.”  
“just don’t have a mental breakdown and shave it, I think I’d have a heart attack.”  
“now that’s a promise I can follow through with.”  
Barbara’s smile stiffened and slowly fell, she sighed, “so, catch me up. Three weeks, go.”  
Dick’s jaw clenched and his hands gripped themselves tight, hanging over the couch as he leaned forward. He didn’t want to talk. Not about that.   
But he did. A shaky breath, two and then he started. Choppy, words straying, but he started. And he kept going. Sometimes he’d stop, words dangling, looking for the next thing to say. Barbara would start wondering if he couldn’t continue, but he’d pick up again.  
And he told her everything. The week he spent in a dark room chained to the ceiling, the uncanny valley of staring into his own eyes, the night after he got out that he couldn’t sleep but he couldn’t train either, couldn’t even cry, he just stared at the ceiling, mind rebooting, the nights he spent hunting the court, breaking into their smaller facilities, the days he’d move around Slade, avoiding every living being he could, how he couldn’t look at Wally, barely talked to him because he couldn’t get himself to pick up his phone, everything. It was a jumbled mess, that was by no means chronological, but he said it.   
And when he was over they were both crying, and hugging, Barbara halfway out of her chair and Dick holding her tight, and Barbara was really glad she locked the door.  
It was like they were teenagers all over again, crying about what they saw under scare toxin.   
And by the time the two had cleaned their faces and hugged for another few minutes Kaldur had buzzed their communicators to tell them almost everyone had been patched up and they were about to regroup in the main room to talk.


	16. Beats Per Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a penny drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, I'm late.

“we’re on residual power, the generators will last for about a month, one and a half if we were to stretch it out and ration it. Food and water for about six months. Oxygen should take us for five. But once the generators are down oxygen goes with it and so do any perishables. We’ve got five ships that can travel long-distance through the atmosphere.” Superman paused, ran his hand through his hair, “the computers aren’t bringing up any life signs other than ours, all of the talons are gone and they took the captives we had with them.”  
“so?” everyone turned, eyes straight to Jaime who flushed, “we can still leave. Put as many people as possible on a ship and take turns, then come back and fix the watchtower when we’re not worrying about the court.”  
“it’s not that simple,” batman said, bringing up schematics with a few presses of buttons along the meeting room table, “the watchtower requires constant system checks and a live-in population to keep it running. If we evacuate, with the watchtower in its current state, it would be completely dysfunctional within months. And we would not be able to come back to it, as without its systems functioning we will not be able enter the docking bay from the outside without people on the inside.”  
“and with the zeta systems down from the watchtower the shield around the earth’s atmosphere will not allow anyone in or out. if we allow the systems to fall the shield will disappear completely.” Flash added, “the zeta systems are supported mainly by the Hall, but the shield relies on the Watchtower.”  
“well here’s an idea,” Jason sighed, “the court is centred in Gotham, those of us who work in that city can head back to earth and start fighting back. they had the guts to fight us here, they’ll do it again if no one stops them.”  
“I think it’s going to take more than just six of you to take these guys down,” Superman said, “and the court is meddling with other cities, too. We should all be fighting them off from the ground.”  
“if we all start fighting they’ll take this to the streets. Although not all leaguers are completely public we, as a community, are. Once we’re all openly working against them they will take this completely public and we will not be able to keep up. Even if everyone is on top of things we don’t know enough about the court to run in blind.” Arrow said, staring at the hologram of the watchtower Batman had pulled up, “we keep this small as long as possible and it stays that way.”  
“the court attacked the league,” Wonder Woman corrected, “they made this the problem of every single one of us.”  
“but not all of you are experienced with them,” Dick spoke up, “some of us have fought them before and know how to continue to. If the reaction to this is small we can plan to surprise them and keep our numbers unknown. We cannot afford to give them the confidence to take this battle to the streets. At large, this attack seemed for the sole purpose of getting our captives”  
“agreed,” Batman muttered, “those of us who work in Gotham can handle this. If and when it starts going over our heads, you are all ready to step in. if the court has its hands in your city start fighting back as if the mobs were just the usual. Don’t let on to anything.”  
“and don’t take any chances,” Dick warned.  
So the league crammed themselves into the ships they had and relayed themselves back to earth. The lanterns stayed on the watchtower, Martian Manhunter and Hawk-woman stayed with them to help. Several others put their hands up to take turns joining them.  
But Dick was on one of the first ships back, Jason stood at his side shooting him sideways glances the whole way there. They landed at the Hall of Justice, it was close to 3 in the morning and Jason shuddered as he walked off the ship from the chill. Dick couldn’t feel it.  
“so what’s the plan?” Jason asked as some of the leaguers filed into the hall.  
“we get to our respective safe houses before someone get’s a targeting system on us.” Dick said, making his way towards the hall entrance.  
“Alright fair enough, I’ll come over tomorrow and we can start an actual plan,” Jason muttered, starting down the pathway.  
“where are you going?”  
“I got a safe house in Washington.” He waved over his shoulder.  
“are you kidding me?” Dick muttered to himself before slipping inside. He needed a zeta-trip all the way back to Metropolis. By the time he snuck back to the apartment it’d be sunrise.  
He loitered by the zeta-tubes waiting for those going to central to finish disappearing into white particles. He’d go through with Clark and Conner.  
he was about to step in when he noticed Conner staying.  
“you’re gonna miss your chance for metropolis,” Dick said to him, “are you not staying with Clark anymore?”  
“no, I’m heading to Star. M’gann and I have an apartment there.” He scratched the back of his head, “there’s a lot you’ve missed out on.”  
“don’t I know it,” Dick sighed through his nose, “I gotta go.”  
“you’re bunkering down in Metropolis?” Conner asked.  
“I’ve got a few long stories as well.”  
“right…” Conner stuck his hands in his pockets, “the court works out of Gotham. I suppose you’d want to make it harder for them to grab you again.”  
They shared a look, Conner wishing Dick could stay longer and actually talk, the other very much glad he had to hop in the zeta-tube right now.   
“I’ll see you around,” he turned and left.

Clark didn’t immediately zoom off to somewhere to change out of the red and blue. Instead he caught Dick’s shoulder before he could disappear into the shadows.   
“why don’t you come over, Louis would love to see you again.”   
“it’s three in the morning Clark,” Dick chuckled, “maybe another time.”  
He tried to walk off, but Clark’s hand was still on his shoulder. He didn’t try to shrug it off, he knew there wasn’t much point.   
“what’s this about?” Dick asked. the dry tone almost made Clark flinch but at least he turned around.   
“you didn’t get to say much about what happened,”  
“that wasn’t a coincidence.” He said. Clark could see the walls coming down. His jaw clenched and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.   
“dick,” Clark sighed, let his hand drop, “I can’t hear your heartbeat.”  
Dick froze, eyes going wide. “what?”  
“it’s not there.” 

If Dick did have a heartbeat it would have stopped.   
Dick did stop breathing though.  
There. That. that was something he could hold to. He was breathing, how could he not have a heartbeat?  
But the shock was extreme and his head didn’t scream at him. After maybe 20 seconds his head was still clear. He didn’t suck in another breath, there was no numbness in his limbs as he stopped. Froze. Immobile. His head pressed pause then rewind and the words replayed in his mind over and over. There was a record scratch, the sound of voices running backwards, ‘I can’t hear your heartbeat’, and then it happened again.   
“Dick?” Clark’s hand landed on his shoulder again, he didn’t move, “Dick?”  
There was voice in the back of his head, it spilled out from the box he’d shoved way back into the shelves.   
_‘you’re practically apart of the court now. Welcome to the dysfunctional family.’_  
Replica’s final little piece of torture. He hadn’t just given him the healing factor; he’d given him it all. And of course Dick was stupid to think one was possible without the other. the court’s healing factor wasn’t magic it was science. It was electrum running through your body instead of blood. It was a reanimated corpse.  
He was a reanimated corpse.   
But that wasn’t possible. He hadn’t lost any memory. He wasn’t a clean slate that took any order from the owls. He wasn’t a talon.   
Not yet at least.  
The box spilled out. what happened if he came across a Talon with any authority? Could they just order him to stand down? Or was that a separate piece of science?  
The court was crafty. What if they were biding their time? Waiting till all the biggest players were in the room with him so they could flip some switch and he went on a killing spree.   
He spiralled. His feet stayed on the pavement outside the phonebooth with the zeta-tube. But he disappeared.   
“Dick,” Clark’s hand was still on his shoulder. He was panicking as well, wondering what the hell he should be doing. Was this a panic attack? A breakdown? Was Dick going to feint? Would he collapse? What should he do?  
He grabbed him under his arms and flew him up to the roof of the building, the cool air barrelled into him.  
As Dick’s feet touched the ground he rushed back to himself. His mind was still a shitstorm but he was functioning.   
“Dick, breathe.” Clark placed both hands on his shoulders this time and looked him in the eyes.  
“I don’t need to .”   
“does it help?”  
Dick forced a lungful of air down his throat. He didn’t feel the cold spike into his skin and chest but he felt oxygen flush into his blood- which wasn’t blood it was electrum- his head rushed from the adrenaline spike he’d been granted.   
“you good?”  
“no.”  
“okay.”  
Dick heaved another breath.   
“it’s okay Dick, it’s okay.”  
Dick stepped out of Clark’s arms and ran his hands through his hair, stalking closer to the edge of the building.  
“are you sure you don’t want to stay somewhere? I can take you to Gotham.”  
“no.” Dick stood on the edge, eyes down on the ground.  
“Dick-“  
“I need to hit something.” He reached into his jacket.  
“Dick, maybe you should talk about this with someone.”  
“no.”  
“Dick.”  
He jumped off the roof, Clark was too surprised to act fast enough. He shot a grapple at the nearest building and disappeared into the shadows. Clark would have to go after him fast if he was to find him. Without a heartbeat he’d be near un-trackable.   
He didn’t go after him. 

Metropolis was no Gotham, but it was still a city. It’s early morning life was still filled with ugly folk.   
He got far enough away from Clark that he wouldn’t overhear his actions without trying. If he heard something he didn’t like it was his fault.  
He found an alleyway to check what he had on his person; he’d forgotten half the tools he had on him. He took his utility belt out and strapped it around his torso over one shoulder. Autopilot flicked on.  
He heard a crash from the store over the road. Someone held a gun to the clerk. Dick’s ear twitched, he creeped closer to the entrance of the alley. A stray car sped down the road, Dick’s muscles tensed up like springs as he eyed the man screaming orders at the few people in the store. It was far too early for these people to be out. they must have finished late shifts, be getting groceries on the way home to hungry families.   
Dick didn’t remember walking across the road but suddenly he was tugging the door open. The man swung the gun around to him.  
“get over there, to the shelves, you help them.” He pointed over to the people he had looting the fridges.  
Dick just walked up to him till the muzzle of the gun poked straight into his chest, his glare simmered into the man’s skull. Inside his head he dared him to pull the trigger.  
“what the fuck’s up with your face bitch?!” the man shouted, “whatever, get over there!”  
Dick’s eyes flicked over to the store clerk who had stopped taking the money from the register and was staring at him. ‘just do as he says’ their eyes seemed to say, ‘I don’t want to die’.  
“are you fucking deaf dude?! Come on?!”   
Dick grabbed the gun by the muzzle.  
This man chose the wrong night. 

Dick stormed out the store, he had the guy’s gun, it was clipped to his belt. The store manager yelled after him, asking if he wanted payment, if he was a friend of superman’s, if he needed some food or a drink.  
“fuck off!” he yelled over his shoulder. He wiped a stray slick of blood off his hands on his jacket. He needed another alleyway. Preferably with more than one guy to hit. He needed a challenge. His hands itched, his face was hot, his feet moved fast. He took a turn. Another turn. One more. He ran and jumped up to a fire escape. He swung and let go and kept climbing. He sped from one rooftop to another. He skidded to a stop on one roof when he saw a van parked in the alley beside it.  
Two men sat in the front seats, another loaded crates into the back, the last one stood watch at the opening of the alley. In the crates weapons flashed. The back of one man’s jacket had a gang sign stitched on poorly.  
He dropped from the roof onto the van, he didn’t take the gun out, it was too quick. He needed to hit something; a bullet took all the work out of it.   
He dropped from the van and the crate-man pulled a gun on him, the others weren’t worried about him. He took the gun by the hand and shoved it out of the way. He twisted the man’s hand and the gun clattered to the floor, backhanded him and kicked down on his leg, punched right above his ear.  
“hey!” Dick turned as the lookout shot him in the shoulder. He jolted but that was the only reaction he gave, “what the hell?!”  
Dick hit the gun out of his hand and clocked him across the jaw, he picked the gun up, emptied it of bullets and hit him across the temple with the but of the gun.   
The passenger in the van shot him. He felt the bullet thunk into his back, he turned and the guy opened the door. Before his feet could touch the cement he grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into the wall of the alleyway. He took out a knife and threw blindly. It stabbed into the guys shoulder and he screamed, sinking to the ground.  
The driver jumped out his door and tried to shoot at him from behind the van’s bumper. Dick took cover and used the wall of the alley as leverage to jump up onto the van. He dropped next to the driver and hit him in the jaw, he crumpled against the van’s side. Before he could scramble up Dick took him by the shirt and kept at it, hitting him in the nose, the eye, the jaw, the nose again. a spray of blood landed on his knuckles. He kept going till the guy crumpled in his arm.  
Dick wasn’t panting. His chest didn’t heave. And his heart didn’t beat.   
He moved to the next alley. And the next.   
It was maybe the sixth when his fist was caught by someone else.  
The crook’s body slid down to the ground, he’d been unconscious for a few hits already.   
Dick turned to the next crook who’d stopped him and his eyes connected with a black and copper mask.  
Slade dropped his arm, “ _what_ are you doing?”  
Dick’s jaw clenched, “working off some steam.”  
“were the heroes that bad?”  
“it’s none of your fucking business.”  
Slade’s eye widened under the mask, he froze for a moment, taking in the scene around him with more interest.  
“what happened?”  
“fuck off.” Dick walked away; he could see a fire escape further down the alley.   
“dick!”  
He didn’t answer, instead he made a running jump and perched on the fire escape’s railing.   
”Dick!” Slade stalked over to him and stood underneath the fire escape.   
Dick leapt up to the next railing and kept going till he was on the roof. He didn’t know if Slade was still calling after him, he honestly couldn’t care. He wasn’t itching to hit someone quite as much, but he still had no intention of stopping. The sun had edged over the horizon painting the sky orange, he glanced over his shoulder to see Slade had followed him up and his armour seemed to glow under the light.  
“it’s light, you can’t go running around hitting people.” Slade said.  
“watch me.”  
Slade marched up and stood in front of him. Dick was tempted to just go around him, but knowing Slade’s stubbornness he’d just keep standing in front of him till Dick gave up.  
“what the fuck is going on?” Slade asked. Dick’s jaw clenched as he looked up into Slade’s one eye.  
“since when do you give a shit? Get out of my way.”   
Slade almost seemed surprised for one moment, Dick considered hitting him right on the temple or somewhere else that would give him pause then jumping off the roof. The problem with that idea is that Slade would almost definitely see it coming.  
“Dick, take a breath and think about what you’re doing right now.”  
“why should I bother, I’ve already killed more people in the past few weeks than most of my life, why stop now? How about I just grab a gun and open up a slot, ‘who needs a hit? for hire today’!”  
“are you listening to yourself right now?”  
“get out of my fucking way Slade.”  
“no, tell me what’s going on.”  
“what’s going on is a midlife crisis, except my life is already over, so I’m making up for my lack of shitstorms now.”   
“what so you’re just giving up on fixing your messes and making more? God, you’ve been spending way too much time with Todd.” Slade crossed his arms, metal clanged against metal.  
“you’re not my father-“  
“no but I am your friend,” Slade pulled the mask off, “so take a breath and tell me what is going on.”  
Dick gave him a withering glare.   
And he punched him in the face.  
Slade flung sideways with the lack of resistance that comes from someone letting you hit them. He grunted and held his hand to the impacted area before turning back to Dick, “that took longer than I expected.”  
“what the fuck do you want?”  
“well I wanted you to hit me,” he hissed as he took his hand away, “solid right hook by the way, Jesus.”  
“wow, thank you for the therapy, I feel so much better already.” Dick stated drily.  
“you needed to hit something, surprising seeing as I think you had already hit most of Metropolis’ night life. but I figured someone you actually knew might take more effect.” Slade grunted, “man I’m glad I heal quick, I would not enjoy the headache that would await a normal person after that.”  
“yeah, it’s cause of the court’s fancy bedazzlements.” he continued the withering glare with no trouble at all, “it’s more than the healing factor.”  
Slade dropped his hand from his head, giving Dick a once over, “oh?”  
Dick looked over to the sunrise, the sky was turning from grey to orange, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “we’re a jolly trio, you, Jason and I. a middle aged ex-military Australian mercenary, a zombified mobster alive thanks to a magical green lake and a reanimated corpse.”  
Slade frowned, eye squinting in confusion before his mind processed what Dick had said, “oh.”  
“yeah.”  
“shit,” Slade breathed, “shit.”  
They stood for a second while Dick re-stuffed the mental box of depressing shit and shoved it back into his mental repression shelf and Slade caught up on all the information Dick had spent the morning processing. He sat down on the edge of the roof and let his feet dangle, Slade stayed standing.  
“so what’s your next move?” Slade asked, having slipped the mask back on, he was staring out over Metropolis with a keen eye.  
“I was going to keep hitting people till someone gave me a bad enough injury it took a while to heal.” He hit his heel against the building, “but I’ve stopped for too long, I’m unmotivated now. Procrastinating. Like I’ve said before, it’s a habit.”  
“probably a good idea anyway, civilians will be crawling the streets by now.”  
Dick sighed through his nose, “I don’t know. I don’t know where to start with the court. We need to take them down, but it’s next to impossible.”  
“wow, this coming from the guy that stopped the reach from invading? How far the mighty have fallen.”  
“that was a group effort,” Dick chuckled. Slade sat down on the roof as well, grunted as he did, “you sound like an old man.”  
“I am an old man.”  
Dick snickered, “sure.”  
“so, plan. Come on, throw some ideas at the wall, something’s gotta stick.”  
Dick groaned, “why do I have to make the grand plan?”  
“you’re going to anyway, vocalising it makes it easier and I’m here to stop you from oversimplifying anything.” Slade took out a gun and a rag with a few other tools to start cleaning them. Dick didn’t understand why he bothered suiting up if he wasn’t intending to do anything but clean his weapons.  
Dick rolled his eyes but he thought about it anyway, tried to focus his mind on a plan of action. He set it up like a ladder in his head; bottom rung, sitting on a roof with no idea what to do, top rung, the court is no longer a threat. He worked his way from top to bottom, shifting ideas around. Scrapping a few. Slade cut in now and then with a different idea or to point out a problem.   
And the box of depressing shit stayed firmly closed on its shelf.


	17. origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally and Artemis start packing, Jason moves to his Gotham safe house and Dick ignores all of his issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit more of a filler chapter, especially considering how... fun the next one is. lol.   
> I don't know what Americans call Eskies and Utes??? I think its just... cold box and truck? I don't know. but whatever. also for those who don't know cars (lol I don't either but whatever) a Yaris is a small car with like, a dual cab and tiny boot space, it's kind of shaped like a tear drop.   
> anyway, posting a tiny bit early because I was late last week.

Wally and Artemis were packing.  
Flash had called at five in the morning and given them the low-down on the watchtower’s recent events. He told them to move somewhere new, a safe house, anywhere, seeing as just about everyone was a veritable target now. _Especially those close to Dick,_ Wally couldn’t help but think.   
While he packed he thought about the fact that he’d been legally dead for four years.   
There was a chance he could have it all fixed in court, but that would require a reason as to why he dropped off the face of the earth for four years. Prints and proof of existence were easy, the rest would be a lot of keen lying. He was starting to become rather empathetic to Green Arrow’s experience.   
He wanted to go back to college, he wanted to get a job, he wanted a normal life.   
But being a superhero wasn’t a nine to five, you couldn’t just quit and pop in every now and then to ask someone to be your reference. You’re in, and you’re in for life. end of.  
Curse his teenage dreams.  
He zipped up his bag- the smaller one he’d keep on him- like carry-on on a plane- and tossed it over a shoulder.  
“what else needs doing?” he asked as he came down the stairs.  
“just whatever we need in the bathroom,” Artemis answered as she finished taking perishables from the fridge. They were never the kind to have a lot of food lying around, seeing as Wally ate it all, so it all fit into one big esky they were going to haul onto the back of Jay’s Ute that he’d let them borrow.  
“and we’ve got everything locked up except the front?”  
“yeah,” Artemis sighed, “I’ve got all my stuff in my car, just gotta get the food in Jay’s truck and then we can head off. I called Roy, he’s got a safe house out of the way that we can use.”  
“cool, I’ll get this in the car then clean out what we need from the bathroom.”  
Wally was going to drive Artemis’s car-a glorified Yaris- while she took the Ute, seeing as he had no idea how to drive a manual, and they’d planned out a route with pitstops to keep track of each other along the way.   
When Wally was finally behind the wheel it occurred to him they didn’t have easy communication other than their phones. He knew it would be enough, but something itched at him that made him want to use walkie-talkies. he finally had that chance and it squashed a bit of his childhood to not take it.  
 _Good,_ he thought, _best start this serious and avoid any immature mistakes._  
And off they went.

Jason was also packing. But his load was more metallic and smelled like gunpowder.  
Like hell he was leaving Bats and his chosen verified little caped crusader-lings to deal with the court on their own. They were delusional to think they could do it. he was surprised at first that Dick was supporting the idea that everyone else fuck off and let the angst-lords handle it on their own until he realised he almost definitely had some kind of motive to it. it may not be a plan, but there would be a reason. Dick could accept help from others, it was one thing that made him better than Batman. the fact that he wasn’t under these conditions meant he knew something Jason didn’t.  
He didn’t like not knowing, but he had enough trust in Dick to accept it, _for now,_ and start moving his ass to Gotham sooner than as soon as possible.   
He had one safe house in Gotham, and unlike most of his others it was actually a house. Technically. That’s what it said on the real estate papers.  
He’d been going after some mob, he didn’t even entirely remember which off the top of his head, and a couple of their higher up, ‘you’re like part of the family’, actually powerful members were selling the place. he went to the cookout they held to show it off, purely for recon but also to have some devilled eggs. The place was nice enough that he chose not to make a huge mess when he sniped the two from the adjacent roof. He’d been feeling sentimental that week and when he’d gone to the scheduled look-through with the actual realters as a way to cover his ass by seeming like he actually was interested in buying he found himself getting too engrossed in the role.  
A week later some money fell into his lap courtesy of that unimportant mob and he decided fuck it, and bought the place- the fact it hadn’t been already bought likely due to the fact that two people had died in it and Gothamites knew better than to mess with that.  
Really it was a small apartment complex that had been turned into an attempt at a suburban house. Half of it bulldozed and sold off to the building next to it and the other half full of doors and staircases and with one of the weirdest floor plans.  
It was perfect.  
He crashed on his bed and knew in seconds that if he didn’t get up that instant he’d fall asleep. He almost let himself nap but he dragged himself out of bed to check defences, hide more weapons throughout the place, open the fridge and stare at the contents a few times, clean off the birds nest on one of the stairs, open the pantry and stare at the contents a few times and refamiliarize himself with all the vantage points and exits.   
_Then_ he crashed on the bed. 

Dick was about two seconds from cutting all ties with humanity and living the life of a hermit in the amazon forest.  
He already looked like a hobo in his faded jeans, dark jacket and bag of stuff on his back. his hair was still shaggy and hung in his eyes a little. He thought about getting it cut but it probably distracted from the gold irises.  
And now he was stuck on a roof with Batman staring him down like a condescending parent telling him off for breaking the neighbour’s flower vase. Slade was somewhere nearby, the two were split up on their way to Gotham to keep people off their tail. He was a button push away from showing up and punching Bats in the face. But Dick could handle this on his own. Maybe. Definitely. Shut up.  
“I want you to come to the manor,” he said, and he was acting so stoic Dick almost didn’t catch the replaced words. ‘want’ was an adlib where ‘need’ was supposed to belong. ‘come to’ was watered down from ‘stay and never leave, like a coward’.  
“I thought we talked about this a couple weeks ago,” Dick sighed.  
“that was a couple weeks ago, things have changed,” Bats said, arms crossed, “the manor is the safest place to be.”  
“not if I’m there. There is no safe place when I’m there, and I’m not risking the lives of everyone else in that house just so you have all your assets within eye-shot.” Dick snapped back. he did not have time or energy for this. Bats worrying about him being safe felt ironic, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.   
“you think that’s what this is about?”  
“tell me something else for it to be about.” Dick levelled a glare on him and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.  
For once Bats actually looked _surprised_ and a little _guilty_ that he’d been caught out. obviously he thought Dick had gotten rusty, or maybe he had always underestimated his intelligence.   
He took a step forward and uncrossed his arms, hesitated before reaching out, “I’d like you to be safe, that’s what this is about.”  
“I can take care of myself.”  
“from the court? On your own?”  
“I guess we won’t know till it happens. But I’ll have better luck if I’m not worried about them taking out everyone else in the manor,” Dick said.  
“they won’t get in the manor. It’s safe.”  
“be realistic Bruce!” Dick threw his hands in the air, “you can’t just cloak everyone in bubble-wrap for this one! Let me do my damn job!”  
“how is this your job?” why did he have to be calm? That made this so much worse.  
“it’s my mess to clean up, Bruce, you know it,” his hands were fists at this point and he was back at square one, he needed to punch something, “you do your job and protect the god damn city, I’ll do mine and take out these bastards.”  
“and why can’t I help with that? for years you’ve been telling me to be a team player and let people in, this is a pretty shitty way of upholding that.”  
“oh, go fuck yourself,” Dick hissed, “you know that’s not what this is about.”  
“Dick,” Bruce sighed, leaned his head back as his shoulders fell, rolled his bed back to the front, “come home.”  
Dick almost laughed. Could feel it trying to bubble up as he smiled and shook his head, breathed a sigh as he rubbed his eyes, “that hasn’t been my home for years Bruce.” He looked back at the cowl, the dark spots where eyes should be, his smile dropped, “and you know why.”   
And he stepped of the roof.  
And he left Batman behind.  
Again.

Dick woke up early the next day. So early Slade was still asleep. He made coffee and drank it even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything. He pondered over whether he actually needed food, water and sleep. He’d been tired since but he rarely needed more than about two hours to feel at his best again. and he was never really hungry. But thirsty? Yeah. Technically the electrum coexisted alongside blood or instead of it, there was a good chance it needed water as well.   
Thinking so much about it made him feel a little queasy, he had to force himself not to wonder whether he could throw up and what would actually come out of his stomach if he did. That would be a slippery slope and soon he’d have the answers to his questions.   
Instead he thought over the mess of a possible plan that was slowly clicking together in his head. he wagered that if you listened closely you could hear Lego bricks slowly connecting to build a house inside his head. as soon as he put the finishing touches on he’d have a plan. Maybe. Hopefully.   
When Slade started stirring he left a note on the fridge and slipped away. Jason would be in or on his way to Gotham by now and he only had the one safe house in the city. He felt like talking to him again. going over options.   
When he got there he found Jason passed out in one of the three bedrooms. He debated waking him up but all considered he probably needed some sleep. Instead he found the best vantage point in the house and sat there. It happened to be on a couch next to a window at just the right angle that no one could see him through the shades. There was a hallway down to the bedroom Jason was in right in front of him, the window at the end lead to the fire escape. To his right was the rest of the lounge room and behind him was the front door that lead to the porch.   
Jason eventually came out of the bedroom, drowsily rubbing at his face in just a pair of sweatpants, he didn’t spot Dick till he got to the end of the hallway.   
"compensating?” Dick asked, and gestured to a few of the spots with hidden weapons.  
"the fuck are you doing here?”  
“there’s a bunch of assassins trying to take over the country and-“  
“right, right, I get it, whatever. Let’s plan a… whatever you wanna call it, just let me have a shower first.”  
“take your time,” Dick laughed, “I’m looting your fridge though.”  
“go ahead there’s nothing much in there anyway,” Jason said over his shoulder. There was a door on the right, a new one that had been added to connect the apartments, he left that way as Dick got up to follow towards the kitchen.

It was unsurprising that Jason’s second condition was to pour two nips of scotch and keep the bottle close by for more.  
They sat back in the lounge room, Dick had discreetly made sure Jason took his first spot where it was just about impossible for someone to snipe him while he sat on the other couch adjacent to it.  
“so what’s our plan?”  
Dick glanced at the window, between the shades near mid-morning sun streamed in, “the court is full of talons that are near impossible to kill. Even I’m not sure what it takes. But they’re run by normal people. Mostly Gotham rich-folk and such. We take them down and the whole thing collapses on itself.”  
“fun.”  
“oh yeah, great stuff.” Dick huffed, “the amount of protection on these people is insane. Especially now that they know they’re targets.”  
“how much information do you have on them? How much of a plan?”  
“a decent bit. Slade and I were throwing round ideas, I figured I’d catch you up,” he took out a holo-pad and placed it on the coffee table between them, “here’s the plan so far.”

It was getting dark. The sky was tinting orange as it shifted into the afternoon.  
Dick had told Jason everything and he had to admit, he had some solid ideas. But even still he had another topic of conversation he wanted to get around to, purely out of curiosity.  
“so why the fancy tech?” he asked as Dick put away the small holo-pad.   
“password protection and the like. I’d prefer this not fall into some random’s hands.”  
“fancy,” he took a sip of his drink, “can I ask you a personal question?”  
“excuse me?”  
“can I ask you-“  
“no I heard you, I’m just confused as to why you’d care enough to preface it like that.” Dick laughed.  
Jason smiled only slightly, “why’d you become Night wing?”  
Dick blinked, “what?”  
“I mean, you were like sixteen when I joined the merry clan of man bats. Why? That was a bit young to be declaring independence and stickin’ it to the man. What happened?”  
“why so interested suddenly?”   
“I don’t know, it just occurred to me I never asked,” Jason held his hands up in fake surrender, “touchy subject?”  
“no, no. I just…” Dick sighed and leaned back, “I took a few bad hits and Batman tried to side-line me. Permanently.”  
“shit,” Jason slouched in the seat, ”I thought it’d be something juicier than that.”  
“I didn’t say that was all,” Dick chuckled as he took a sip of his own drink, “I snuck out, wanted to prove I was better than Bruce thought I was. Had a real angsty period it was almost pathetic.”  
“wow,” Jason nodded, “I’m definitely surprised.”  
“fuck off.” Dick shook his head with a smile, “I ended up stuck in some fighting rings for a while, I heard Bruce went around them when he was just starting out and figured I’d give it a try. A case happened in one- a murder. The cops didn’t care and Bats was busy with ‘more important cases’.” Dick air quoted, “so I looked into it as a favour to one of the more show-pony fighters.”  
“the ones that have a choreographed fight and do all the flashy hype-ups?”  
“yeah, I got along with one of them pretty well. He was an ex-circus guy, so duh,” Dick snorted, “I found the murderer and it turned out it was a whole mob thing, an enemy ring run by one of the local mobs. They were trying to take control of other fighters, you know, gain members, that crap. There was more to it but whatever.” He finished his drink, “it was a whole thing, the police found out because it kind of uprooted some of their cases and stopped a few issues. The flashy fighter wanted me to take credit and I didn’t, so he told the story for me. Eventually I needed to give a name and I wasn’t gonna use Robin, so I took Night wing.”  
“and it went from there?”  
“yeah. Batman didn’t even know for a few months till he tried to go after the new hero who dared step on his domain, so I had to break it to him.” He put the glass down with a shrug.   
“and then you moved out at seventeen?” Jason raised an eyebrow, “should I be flattered?”  
“ha, ha, yes I will admit my eventual leaving was to do with you dying.” Dick shrugged again, “what did you expect?”  
“wow, I’m touched,” Jason grunted, “so-“  
“ssh,” Dick stood up and looked out the window.  
“excuse me?”  
“didn’t you hear that?”  
“what?”  
“the…” he walked down the hall and looked out the window, “shit.”  
“what’s wrong?”  
“we gotta go,” he came back down the hallway, “we gotta go now.”  
The front door burst open.


	18. the end of the first act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally can't give any descriptors without spoiling what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm gonna put this story on hiatus for a bit so I can write a bit more. I don't want to catch up with myself and be posting as I write.  
> I wanted to have this chapter end at a different spot, but it would be too short. It works okay like, pacing wise, I guess. I just didn't want to give y'all a chapter with only like 1000 words.  
> Also, remember what I said a while ago about a certain tag and how it should be specified as 'eventually'? We've reached eventually.

It was dark.  
Jason was tired. He was exhausted. He was so far past drained that he was quite sure if he stopped moving for more than one second he’d collapse.  
Which, he supposed, made the constant attacks helpful, but even still he wished that the talons would, for a second, stop coming at him like bats out of hell.  
He and Dick were back to back, his jacket whipped in the wind and his hair with it. his knuckles ached and his calves screamed and his chest heaved. He right hooked, dodged, blocked. Uppercut, fast hits, one, two, three, duck, move, weave, hook, throat hit, block, kick, one, two, three, shit fuck that’s a knife.   
They were on the roof of the building, the night air seeped in and set his teeth further on edge than the stress.   
A knife came barrelling towards his eye, he couldn’t dodge it. it was going to hit. He braced.   
And it didn’t come. Dick’s hand appeared and snapped it out of the air like a crocodile would a bird. Then it was gone in a flash, already embedded in another Talon’s head.  
The bastards with head wounds seemed to be staying down the longest. And if the weapon was left in nothing could heal. Dick left the dagger there, but they couldn’t keep that up. If they had to leave every weapon in these assholes just to keep them down they’d be defenceless in seconds.  
And that’s when Jason grabbed one of their stray blades from a down bird and severed its head from its body.  
It stayed down.  
So now they were thirty minutes into the fight and surrounding them were headless Talons and those that wished to avenge them. He hoped he would survive this. He hoped Dick’s healing factor was as good as what they had else he wouldn’t survive this.  
He doubted they were the same, not when Dick was still himself. Still humane. If he had the whole shebang surely he’d be just as murderous. Right?  
He couldn’t second guess it. he was busy. Dick was busy. The amount of times they saved each other on this one roof top was growing exponentially by the second.   
He hooked again and turned to the next talon. One, two three, kick, throw. And then the next one came.  
And the next one didn’t wait. Red hot pain seared up his leg and he turned. But there were two now, one on each side. He could do that; those odds weren’t horrible. But everything ached, and his head thumped and another cut scorched down his back.  
And Dick was too far.  
He went down on one knee as a talon kicked him from behind.  
A blade was at his throat, it wound back to take his head. Jason’s eyes screwed shut. He knew what came next.  
But it didn’t. instead he heard a sickening thunk and his eyes shot open. His vision was blocked by a body.  
Dick’s body.  
The blade had stuck into his stomach. At an angle so it started at the navel and shot out just under the right side of his ribcage, his hand flew to the wound and Jason could hear him starting to choke.  
His eyes blew wide as he shot up and grabbed him by the shoulders. Dick was just as shocked. The talon let go of the blade, left it in Dick’s torso. Jason panted a breath as a scream gurgled up his throat.  
“go,” Dick patted his shoulder as he slipped to the ground.  
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Jason spat, voice hoarse, “I’m gonna fucking kill all of you.”  
He threw himself at the talon, and the next and the next. at some point he heard the sword in Dick’s stomach clatter to the ground as he took it out. there was no point leaving it in, with the amount of enemies around them he was going to die, blade in or not. They didn’t have time.   
And Jason knew there were too many for him to even dream of taking them all down, but like hell was he giving up.  
And soon he was taken by the shoulders and shoved to the ground. There was another sword at his throat and this time no one was jumping in front of it. he didn’t care. He had very little links to the living world anymore and as much as if he thought about it he would decide he wasn’t going down till Batman was coming with him right now he wasn’t thinking. He was too busy spitting in the face of whoever picked and chose who lived, who died and who got to deal with it because they were the shittiest person in the world.   
But he couldn’t physically spit at god, so instead he spat on the talon’s already blood-stained boots.  
“get it over with bastard, you’ve got no one to gloat to.” He hissed.  
A sword, dark and dripping with glistening electrum filled blood, appeared in Jason’s vision. It sliced through the air and the talon’s necks. The ones that held him toppled and Jason almost fell onto the blade still at his throat.  
Dick hit it away and held his own sword, the one that had been buried in his stomach, at the Talon.  
“you think this will save you? There are more coming,” the talon hissed, Jason glanced to the roof’s edge where he could see shadows moving, “there are more already here.”  
“no,” Dick said smoothly, “but I will make you a deal.”  
“Dick,” Jason hissed out, almost choking on blood that filled his mouth, “don’t you fucking dare.”  
“shut up Jay, the adults are talking,” Dick said, shifting his stance, “I think you know what the terms are.”  
“let me guess,” he could hear the smirk in his voice, “we let him leave this rooftop alive and you come with us without trouble.”  
“need any more than that?” Jason could hear it distantly, but he was busy struggling to his feet and battling the ring in his ears.  
“Dick don’t you fucking dare,” Jason repeated, hissed it past his teeth.  
Dick looked over his shoulder at him, “if I don’t you die here, tonight. That’s not fucking happening.”  
“Dick, think about this, you make this deal there’s no turning back, there’s n-“  
“shut up, Jason, I’ve thought of it, believe me.” He levelled a glare on the talon in front of him, “final option, take it or leave, all or nothing, let’s go.”  
The Talon barked a laugh, “clever boy,” he muttered, and nodded to the Talons drifting at the edges of the light, they slinked away, “deal.”  
“Dick.” Jason had immunity now and he used it. he shot between his brother and the talon as the sword was lowered and grabbed Dick by the shoulders, stared him in the eye, “Dick, don’t you dare.”  
A cold detachment slipped over Dick’s features as he stared back into Jason’s eyes, he slipped his hands from his shoulders and held Jason by the forearms, “I’m your brother, Jay. This is what I do.” He glanced at the talon and back, “I save you.” He swallowed and clenched his jaw, “you know the plan, go to Slade and tell him what’s going on and keep going. You take these bastards out, and if necessary…”  
He knew it was coming.  
“you take me out, too.”  
“Dick, no,” Jason hissed, “come on, we can fight our way out of this, you can’t do this.”  
“Jason,” Dick whispered, the cool features slipped and he gave him a sad smile. Then he was in his arms and Jason just wanted to collapse. Maybe he could go limp and fall on Dick and trap him there.   
“please.” He hated himself. He hated Dick. He hated everything because he was begging now. He had nothing but rage and the desire to kill inside him and Dick was the rock holding him down from floating into hysteria because he was his _brother_. His god damned family. He had no one else he could call that. no one else he would. Just him. He couldn’t lose him too. He was begging. He had never begged for anything since he’d pleaded for Joker to stop, so long ago on the day he’d died. But he was begging now and he wouldn’t stop till he was dead or dick was back.  
“I’m sorry,” Dick let him go, looked him in the eyes.  
And he knocked him out.

He woke up on the rooftop.  
Dick had one final trick up his sleeve, an electrode he must have hidden deep in his pockets seeing as he hadn’t already used it.  
Jason crushed it in his hand as soon as he found it. he remembered what Dick had said, to catch Slade up. But he wanted to shoot poison from his mouth, he wanted to recount the fight and have the person he spoke to be racked with grief.   
And he wanted to have these wounds treated.  
So he started for the Batcave.

Batman had kept his old suit.  
He saw it hung on the gantry above the computer, next to Dick’s old robin uniform. He remembered Bruce staring at that suit before when he was still around, usually after he’d fought with Dick or any other time he felt like brooding about his mistakes without attempting to learn from them. Jason figured Bats would expect him to be touched at the sight of his next to it but Jason’s lip curled when he laid eyes on it.   
The man was ridiculous.  
He sat on the computer’s chair and kicked his feet against the desk, his helmet resting by his feet and a gun loosely in hand. He blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, the white streak taunted him. He still didn’t know if he liked it or not, but he hadn’t died it black yet.  
He itched to go after Dick but the small sense left in his mind knew that he was long gone. He’d have no hope of tracking him or the talons and they definitely wouldn’t be anywhere they knew of. He, like Dick, suspected their headquarters was beneath Gotham, connected to the sewer system. Old myths said something about a city collapsing centuries ago and Gotham being built atop it, these stories usually referenced or coincided with some lore of the court. It was their only current lead on a central hive location and Jason hoped it was true.  
Jason expected Bats to be coming home from a patrol soon, he’d woken up around midnight and Batman usually came back to the cave not long after that hour if it was a quiet night- which this most definitely was. At that point Alfred would usually be persuading him to sleep instead of staying up late working on cases or documenting information. Alfred didn’t usually win those debates.   
He wasn’t down yet. Jason almost wanted him to be, other than Dick he’d likely be the only person he could stand that still worked with batman- and Dick technically didn’t anyway. But he figured it was probably best, somewhere deep down he didn’t want Alfred to see him, purely because he thought he’d be rather disappointed in what he’d become.   
But Bruce? Oh, Bruce could fucking suck it.  
The Batmobile pulled into the cave with a low roar, Jason pushed off the desk and spun the chair around as Batman hopped out.  
“Jason,” he shot him a low powered glare, “what are you doing here?”  
“bearing bad news.” He levelled a flat withering stare at the man who’d caused the exponential downturn of his life, “sit down.”  
Batman let his glare reach full power, “what’s this about?”  
“recent developments in the Court’s actions,” Jason hissed, “or would you prefer I let you find out yourself?”  
He almost wanted to leave it to him. Almost wanted to let it go unknown till he saw Dick crammed into a Talon uniform with all his personality scooped out. almost wanted to let him be beaten bloody when he inevitably lost his game when fighting his oldest son.  
But no. he wanted to see his face _now._  
“make it quick,” he grunted, strode for the computer and began to unlock it, not giving a damn that Jason was in his chair.  
Jason didn’t move. He didn’t turn to follow him. He stared straight ahead and let Batman walk by him.  
“They have Dick.”  
He didn’t hear anything. Didn’t see Batman move.  
“what?” Batman ground out, refusing to turn, to show emotion.  
“they attacked us-“  
“so what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out looking? You and Death Stroke seemed just fine helping him last time.”   
Oh, the poor guy’s feelings were hurt. Was that jealousy. Jason’s heart really bled for him.  
Pah.  
He turned the chair around, stared at the back of Batman’s head, “he gave himself up so they’d let me go, offered himself willingly as a talon.”  
Batman’s fingers froze over the keyboard. His arms dropped to his sides as he turned and looked at Jason with a glare that could kill.  
“what?”  
“are you deaf?” Jason snapped, he shot from his chair and let it roll, “the court has dick. They’re going to fry his brain so bad he won’t even remember who he is and then send him off to kill,” he grit his teeth and stared into Batman’s eyes, full of challenge and hate, “and it’s your fault.”  
 _My fault._  
No.  
 _Batman’s fault.  
Bruce’s fault.  
His fault._  
It always was.  
He watched Batman freeze and go numb. He remembered this, he’d seen it before, every year on the anniversary of Martha and Thomas Waynes’ deaths. He knew this face and this resolve.  
And he was angry because he _knew_ what happened next.  
“this is your wake up,” he hissed, before he was so far back in his mind he wouldn’t hear a thing, “you keep training your kid soldiers and sending them off to their deaths, using them as shields while you take down the bad guys, but _this is what happens, Bruce._ ” He felt his hand clench and he wanted to hit him so badly, his other gripped his gun, “it’s about time you wake up and realise all this crusade of yours has ever done is got everyone else in this city killed.”  
“don’t you dare,” Bruce snapped back to himself, “you have no idea what-“  
“what you’re fighting for? What you’ve lost? What you’ve _sacrificed_ for this crusade?! I know Bruce, I was one of the fucking sacrifices!” He roared, “I watched you beat people bloody, I _helped_ you do it, because you persuade everyone to believe you’re saving people, saving this _city_. Did it ever occur to you it shouldn’t be saved?!” he gestured to his computer, the screen filled with case files and newspaper pages, “look at it Bruce! It’s a fucking shit show! Half of it is mobs and the other half is manipulated by a fucking rich-ass corporation of Owls. The people here won’t be saved by some jaded man in a bat suit who can’t even properly stop the villains.”  
“stop making this about you and you’re skewed moral code,” Bruce grunted.  
 _“SKEWED MORAL CODE!”_ Jason shrieked, “I have a _realistic_ moral code! You prance about pretending to be the pariah of justice but you can’t even properly dish it out!” Jason shoved his gun away, it was no fucking use here and he’d rather wave both hands around hysterically, “you half ass the job and it gets everyone killed. Either you stop putting more people in danger or you start being realistic about the fact that you can’t fucking save anyone by letting the murderers in this city constantly get out and wreak more havoc.” He pointed to the suits above them, his uniform torn and frayed and blood-stained, “that is your fault! It always has been and I can tell you treat it that way. Dick is your fault, too.” He stabbed him in the chest with a finger, right in the centre of the Bat symbol, “but you’re stuck on recognising your mistakes and won’t fucking learn from them. I learned, I’ve changed. Dick did, too. Catch the fuck up Bruce.”  
Bruce set his jaw, “you should leave.”  
“trust me, I’m a-fucking-bout to,” Jason hissed, glare strong as ever, “but you remember this and when you end up seeing Dick skulking around dressed like a fucking assassin you better fucking apologise because he deserves it more than almost anyone.”  
And he spun on his heel and marched out the cave.


End file.
